World Sick
by airtrafficstreams
Summary: Every day at around five o'clock, a girl wearing a woolen, button-up coat and a red scarf walked by Apartment Room 248. Every day, Vaughn watched her walk by from inside Apartment 248. She was his constant, and he didn't even know her name. AU.
1. Chapter 1

_"I get world sick every time I take a stand." - Broken Social Scene_

**0o0o0o0o**

Every day, at around five o'clock, a girl wearing a woolen, button-up coat and a red scarf walked by Apartment Room 248 on Hickory Avenue. Her long, chestnut hair whipped around her face when it was windy, and the autumn's turning leaves had a tendency to tangle themselves in her hair when she was least expecting it. She carried an umbrella on rainy days, but he had seen her twirling and skipping in the rain when she thought she was alone. No matter what she was doing, she was always there, going somewhere only she seemed to know of.

Every day, Vaughn watched her walk by from inside Apartment 248, drinking his evening coffee and kicking off his work boots. He would read the newspaper, snap on the low quality radio in his small kitchen, and wait until her familiar figure came into sight. She was his constant, and he didn't even know her name. _What a creep you are_, a voice in his ear whispered.

One particularly blustery day, at five o'clock sharp, Chelsea walked on by the apartment complex with a strange feeling. Not knowing that the man whom always looked for her wasn't there today, she dismissed as one of those everyday oddities that really aren't so odd. She only continued on her way, more interested in her destination than the familiar, empty apartment that towered above her. The wind halfway carried her forward, waving her red scarf around like it had a life of its own.

The entrance to the nameless park she visited every day eventually came into view, and a nostalgic smile spread across Chelsea's face. The park gave her more happiness than any other part of the city. Then, out of nowhere it seemed, a man was walking beside her, looking up ahead at the park as she had been doing.

"Hello," he greeted, turning his gaze on her. A strange jolt echoed through Chelsea; his eyes were an exotic violet, the color of salvia flowers she had grown earlier in the year's gardening season. They had just recently wilted back from the autumn frosts, gone until next spring.

"Ah, hello," she stammered in her shock. Who was this unusual, striking stranger? And what did he want to do with an insignificant like her, forever lost in this vast city? There was an unspoken rule in the city, that one doesn't extend friendliness towards strangers past the required common courtesy. More than that was considered strange, for each person had their own lives and business to attend to. Why would they have anything to do with a mere stranger anyway, in the big scheme of things?

"Mind if I accompany you to wherever you're going?" the man asked. Chelsea wanted to point out that he was already doing so, but didn't for fear of offending him. For some reason, she didn't want him to leave her to walk by herself as she did every day. She secretly craved the attention of someone, anyone.

"I don't mind," she answered, stealing a curious glance at him as he nodded and continued walking. She started and took a few quick steps in order to catch up with his longer stride.

The pair entered the park, and as she usually did, Chelsea sighed in content. This _was_ her favorite place in the city; she had no doubt about it. It was one of the few places left that didn't contain an essence of corruption by greed or selfishness. There were still trees and flowers, and the pond in the center was untainted by stinking pollution and trash, thrown by careless hands.

She loved to watch the people who came there at this time of day; adults just off of work, looking for a moment of peace in their hectic lives. Parents still in their work uniforms, with children on their backs, laughing and happy to be able to spend time with them at the end of the day. An old couple holding hands, standing on the small bridge that arched over the pond like a rainbow. A young couple in love, standing behind the grove of trees and holding each other like it would be the last time they would be able to. Maybe it was. Chelsea didn't know, and that was part of the magic.

She led the man to a lonely bench off to the far left side of the park, where the music from the bistro nearby floated conventionally around them. It sounded jazzy and simple, an obvious choice for a modest place like such.

They sat quietly, watching as the park breathed in the life of the city's population. A shriek of bubbly laughter erupted from the old swing set on the other side of the pond, and Chelsea could see a young mother pushing her baby in it. Each time it swung towards her, she kissed his face, sending the infant into bouts of uproarious laughter.

"What's your name?" Chelsea asked, fully taking in the man beside her.

He was not the common city dweller, that was for sure. He wore a tan leather jacket over a black button up, dark jeans, and boots a cowboy might be seen wearing. His hair was silver, much like her favorite kind of weather, but the absence of lines on his face suggested he couldn't have been much older than herself. It was the eyes that intrigued her the most, though. They were like foreign gems, something she'd never once seen on anyone else.

"Vaughn," he answered, looking at her as well. "What's yours?"

"Chelsea," she said, breaking their gaze and looking back out at the park. She couldn't seem to look at him for that long.

"It's nice to meet you," he said, following her gaze. They remained in those same positions, inebriated from the influence of the one of the city's last haven, the rich scents of bistro wine mixing with the atmosphere of calmness. The stars began to appear, and the nameless persons disappeared from around them. No matter how much they'd like to stay, life had to carry on with its fast-paced schedule. The lights illuminating the square flickered out. The old couple was the last to depart, their aged limbs carrying them away into the suffocating metropolis around them.

"I should go," Chelsea finally spoke, getting slowly to her feet and taking in a last look at her park. "It's late."

"Let me walk you back to where you're staying," Vaughn murmured, his voice sounding strangely low. "I wouldn't feel right if I let a lady wander through these streets alone in the dark."

Chelsea smiled, glad that it was dark enough so it was hidden from this strange man. "It's really okay," she said, feeling an unexpected burst of warmth toward this stranger that maybe wasn't a stranger. "I'll be okay. I don't live even ten minutes from here."

He was silent for a few seconds, hesitating, before she saw his shadowed face nod. "If you're sure. Just be careful."

"I will be," she replied quietly, feeling suddenly somber in the mere light of the crescent moon above.

"Goodbye," she offered him, as they went their separate ways. Vaughn turned back around, watching as her figure slowly disappeared into the city as everyone else had. Everyone always had to go back sometime.

"Goodbye," he replied, hoping she had heard. He shoved his hands in his jacket pocket and resumed his walking, not looking back.

Both fell victim to the night's grip with the other on their minds, a lullaby to somehow ease sleep in an insomnia-plagued city.

**0o0o0o0o**


	2. Chapter 2

**0o0o0o0o**

They began to meet every day after that, him always managing to catch her in stride as she passed Apartment 248. They slowly became less of strangers and more of close acquaintances. They sat on the same bench each day, watching the people who filtered in and out of the small green square. Once, Chelsea brought along a bag of croissants and two coffees for them to share. It was then Vaughn learned that she worked part-time at one of the town's most esteemed coffee houses, A Day Latte.

"During the Spring and Summer, I sometimes help out a couple of the gardening shops nearby for extra change. I love watching things grow like that. But right now, it's just the late morning, early afternoon coffee shop shift. What do you do?"

Vaughn told her about his work at the city's animal kennel, the seemingly endless numbers of animals deemed unadoptable because of elements out of their control. The sickening feeling of having to put down an animal solely because of the lack of room. What made the job satisfying; when an abused dog was taken in by a kind family and learned that not all humans were cruel, or a cat on the brink of death making it through the night. He had learned through such experiences to rely on life's simpler pleasures.

A soft smile formed on Chelsea's face as he talked, and remained even after he finished. "That sounds like a fulfilling job. Working with animals must be great. In all honesty, sometimes I feel like I get along with animals better than with people. They don't judge, and they're great listeners. I especially love dogs, myself."

Shocked, Vaughn merely nodded. Never had he met someone who had shared that same feeling with him.

When the stars appeared, they departed as usual, a certain thoughtfulness weighing on the minds of both.

**0o0o0o0o**

The Pumpkin Festival made a grand entrance into the city, turning it to something exhilarating that breathed a certain joy into the hearts of all, ages aside. Although, it was the children's reactions that Chelsea enjoyed the most. With their minds still pure, this holiday was the root of all good in the world. And with that good, came something even better: free candy. Their city's Pumpkin Festival was especially famous, having adopted a rather unusual custom that drew more people in every year: the dressing up of children in costumes.

Huddled next to Vaughn on the park bench, Chelsea found herself smiling at the kids running through the park, pulling already exhausted parents along by the hand. Vampires, ghosts, ghouls, and all sorts of other fantasy creatures paraded across their lines of vision, creating an aura of spooky mystique.

"If I had my own house, I'd be giving out candy right now by the dozen," Chelsea found herself saying. "The Pumpkin Festival was always one of my favorite holidays of the year."

Silence followed her statement. Chelsea twiddled her thumbs, glancing furtively at Vaughn occasionally. He seemed to be far away tonight. Since they had arrived, just as the most eager children were beginning to appear, he had hardly spoken a word. Granted, in the fleeting time they had known each other, he had never been much for conversation, but something seemed different about his silence. A perpetual worrier, Chelsea halfway turned to him and tried again to engage him in conversation.

"Do you have a favorite holiday?"

His lavender irises shifted towards her oddly, like she had just asked if he preferred boxers over briefs.

"No," he deadpanned.

"Not even the Pumpkin Festival? Everyone loves the Pumpkin Festival. Even if you're not a kid."

"Not me. Never celebrated it," Vaughn replied blandly.

Gasping, Chelsea's jaw dropped as she stared at him with wide eyes. Her dramatic reaction caused a passing parent to give her a strange look, before she hurried her child onward.

"How can you never have celebrated the Pumpkin Festival? Such a deprived child…"

Vaughn snorted, and narrowed his eyes at nothing in particular. "I don't think it's a huge deal. It's just a day where kids get to run around to stranger's homes, begging for stale candy. I could just go to the store and buy my own candy, fresh."

Chelsea slumped down in her seat further, crossing her arms and sighing. "You're such a skeptic, Vaughn. I think you're missing the point of the holiday."

"Enlighten me."

"The _point_," Chelsea explained, "is basically to have a good time. Something not enough people seem to do these days. It wouldn't be the same if kids bought their candy at the store. The excitement of going around to houses and collecting candy, and in this city's case, dressing up, is what makes it so much fun. "

Interrupting Chelsea's impressive speech, two little kids came sprinting up to Vaughn with the biggest of grins on their round faces.

"Wow, Mister! Nice costume! You're a cowboy, right? Aren't you a little old to be dressing up?"

The boy who had spoken seemed to be dressed in a superhero's costume, complete with the blow up muscles and slicked back, dark hair. The girl next to him, whom had been silent, glowered at him and elbowed him in the chest. She was dressed as mermaid, her long blonde curls twitching whenever she moved.

"You're being rude, Charlie!" she shrieked, stamping her foot. Realizing the pair was watching her, she turned back to Vaughn with a sweet smile.

"You look like a very nice cowboy. Charlie was just kidding. Sorry to bother you. Bye bye!"

"I'm not –"

The girl dragged the boy off with an apologetic smile. As soon as they were out of hearing distance, Chelsea collapsed into a fit of giggles, doubled over at the waist.

"Shut up," Vaughn snarled, crossing his arms and looking away as his face colored vividly.

"Ahaha," Chelsea breathed, random giggles escaping from her chest as she calmed herself down. "Ahahaha. Cowboy. You know, you do kind of look like a cowboy! You just need a hat, and you'd be perfect!"

Scoffing, Vaughn stormed away from the bench, leaving the chuckling girl behind. Although he did not expect it, he found himself reluctantly pleased when he heard the crunch of her boots running up behind him.

"You're a terrible sport," she muttered from behind him, mimicking his heavy stomping. "I was only kidding. Sort of. You rock the cowboy attire."

Vaughn grit his teeth, ignoring her remark.

She sighed again, rushing ahead so she was walking at the same pace as him. Glancing sidelong at him again, Chelsea took in his furrowed brow, and the tight, downcast lines of his mouth.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I took it too far. Apology accepted?" she offered, nudging him softly in the arm.

No audible answer came, but the slight relaxing of his features told all Chelsea all she needed to know. He was the type not to answer in words, but in body language. If one could manage to read that sort of physical language, words weren't needed.

"Good," she said. "Good."

They walked until they reached the park's exit, as it was around the usual time they left anyway. Most of the children passing through had disappeared, aside from a group of older teenagers laughing not far from them.

"You need to eat more chocolate and candy," Chelsea seemed to blurt out of nowhere before they bid their farewells. "I think if you did, some sweetness would seep into your blood and up to your mind. You've been seriously deprived of it, and I believe it's taking a toll on your health."

Vaughn rolled his eyes and frowned. "My…health. Funny, but the last time I checked chocolate was made of sugar. Sugar only."

Chelsea smiled wryly, as if she knew something he didn't. "I was referring to your mental health. And besides, that's a myth. Looks like you've been lied to your entire life about that, too. Don't you worry. I'll bring you chocolate one of these times. It'll be like an experiment: Can grumpy cowboys be changed by the introduction of sweets into their lives?"

With that, Chelsea cheerfully told Vaughn goodbye before walking jovially away, wishing a couple a happy Pumpkin Festival as they passed.

Shaking his head, Vaughn departed as dumbfounded by her behavior as usual. If only he didn't feel the need to smile at her words.

**0o0o0o0o**

The first snow of the year blanketed the city, turning the city a pristine, pure white. Swathed in layers of clothing, scarves, and gloves, the two walked around the park for a change, admiring the wonderland that had taken the place of their ordinary little sanctuary overnight. Vaughn snuck secretive glances at her like a young schoolboy, taking in her fuzzy earmuffs and how they untidied her hair just right.

"Hey Vaughn?" Chelsea asked, looking up at him with big, blue eyes.

"Yes?" he replied, turning an endearing rosy color as he worried he had been caught staring. Luckily, the cold was a good enough of a reason for a pink face, and Chelsea didn't seem notice anything out of the ordinary.

"What made you decide to come up and talk to me that one day?"

"Curiosity," Vaughn replied, watching his breath turn to white smoke in the chilly air.

"What do you mean?"

"Uh…Well, you walked by my apartment every day. Usually wearing that button up coat and red scarf. You stood out from the normal people. Seemed interesting, copped my attention. So that one day I decided to go out and meet you."

His explanation made the corners of Chelsea's mouth turn up unexpectedly, and she suddenly turned and hugged him. It was the first time they had ever touched, and Vaughn was beyond taken aback. It wasn't what he was expecting at all; his explanation was rather creepy, when he thought about it. His breath momentarily hitched in his chest, and his mind seemed to short circuit at the simple touch.

"You're a nice guy, Vaughn. Hope you know that," Chelsea said, inhaling the smell of his leather jacket. She had always enjoyed the smell of leather especially, and the faint odors of coffee and snow were mixed in with it, creating an intriguing aroma.

She let him go and they continued their rounds, commenting on the way the snow hung from the branches of the evergreen trees, and marveling at the way the setting winter sun colored the white ground. One was oblivious to the almost painful beating of the other's heart, and the muddled dread that colored his cheeks and ears.

Winter continued to tighten its grasp on the city, as temperatures proceeded to drop and the amount of snowfall increased. Vaughn and Chelsea began to watch the snow plows lurch around the streets outside their park during their daily outings, shoveling away the snow in a panicked frenzy. Visitor numbers had begun to decrease with the more severe weather, but the coffee shop employee and animal worker continued to meet despite that. They merely added more layers to their outfits. Chelsea bought a snug red hat that match her favorite scarf, and Vaughn his own white, woolen scarf.

"The holidays are coming up," Chelsea mentioned one especially wintery day , sprawled on the ground after creating a snow angel. She had vehemently refused to stand up, in fear of wrecking the design.

Vaughn shoved his hands into his trademark jacket, and vaguely nodded. "They are," he confirmed, watching as snowflakes began to fall in light sheets. One landed on his cheek, immediately melting at the first touch.

"Are you visiting your family?" she asked, reshaping her snow angel against the flurries of snow that threatened to ruin its distinctive print.

"No," he said, looking away, off into the city. It was strangely quiet, a remarkable quality for a city to have. Vaughn wasn't sure how he quite felt about it.

"Are they visiting you?" she asked again, this time looking at him hopefully. Vaughn still didn't meet her eyes, and watched a mechanical ballerina in a toy store window across the way dance elegantly, her movements almost fluid enough to look human .

"Nah," he replied shortly.

"Hmm," Chelsea hummed softly, sensing it was a subject he didn't wish to discuss, and dropped it. After a few minutes of mutual silence, she spoke up again. "Would you like to hear my plans, instead?"

"Okay," Vaughn agreed, feeling relieved of the strange pressure that had swallowed his brain whole.

He could always count on her for a distraction, if anything. She talked about her family, how her mother and father had divorced when she was thirteen, so visiting on the holidays since then had always been a little tricky. She also had an older brother, Mark, and his wife Natalie that she needed to visit. Her holidays would span over the course of three days. On the 23rd, she would visit her father and his new wife, who lived in a town a few hours away by boat. The 24th would be devoted to her mother and _her_ new husband, along with his two older kids who were coming in to visit as well. The 25th, she would be back in the city, waiting for Mark and Natalie to catch a train here to visit her.

"Sounds like you'll be pretty busy," Vaughn commenting, almost smiling at the excitement present in Chelsea's voice.

"You bet," she said. "I'll be exhausted by the time it's all over."

Suddenly, she frowned, and glanced at Vaughn guiltily. "I don't think we'll be able to visit on the 23rd or 24th."

"I figured so," Vaughn drawled, nodding his head to hide the disappointment that gnawed at him nonetheless. "Don't worry about it. Family is family, and it sounds like you don't get to see them very often. Make the most of it."

"What about on the 25th?" Chelsea asked earnestly, her eyes lighting up some as plans unfolded in her bright mind. "Natalie and Mark have to catch a train back to their town by the end of the day. They've got their own family waiting for them back there. You could come over to my apartment or something."

"I don't think so," Vaughn muttered, looking off past her as the park lights sputtered out around them. This was usually their cue to leave. He got to his feet, surprisingly stiff in the limbs. The cold usually didn't affect him, but for some reason, he was just as vulnerable to it as everyone else tonight.

"Why not?" Chelsea pouted, sitting up from her disfigured snow angel.

"I'm not a priority. You shouldn't be cutting back time with your family so you can hang out with some guy you barely even know," Vaughn answered with clenched teeth. He wanted to be away from her now, a rare wish when he thought about it. Far away, back in his apartment where it was safe from everything.

"I'll do whatever it is that makes me happy," Chelsea countered, chin in the air. She got to her feet, and brushed off the excess snow. "If I want to spend time with you during the holidays, then I don't see why it shouldn't happen. Unless you don't want that."

Vaughn was silent, and Chelsea took his lack of denial as the answer she wanted.

"Good," she said, and her expression softened. "I don't want you to be alone, that's all. Nobody should be alone during the holidays. There's just something not right about that."

Vaughn nodded, and without another word turned to leave her behind, back into the city that suddenly seemed haunted, with nothing to offer.

"Oh, wait! I nearly forgot, wait up!" Chelsea's voice called, and he stopped in his path while running footsteps crunched up the snow behind him. He heard her rustling through the bag she always seemed to carry around with her, and a small "aha", before she tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

Vaughn turned, and saw her cheerfully holding up a chocolate bar to him.

Puzzled, he frowned and narrowed his violet eyes. "What…?"

Chelsea rolled her eyes, but her smile only grew. "Don't you know what day it is!"

"Sunday…?"

"Well, yes. But it's Winter 14th, which means it's Winter Harmony Day. Haven't you ever heard of that?"

"No. What is it?" Vaughn asked, genuinely interested now. Her face seemed to flush a bit at his question, but he began to wonder if he was seeing things when she responded, her voice as collected as ever.

"It's a day when girls give their guy friends chocolate! Sounds like a pretty nice day, right? And see, I promised you I would bring you chocolate, remember? During the Pumpkin Festival? So here, take this, and have a wonderful night!"

She shoved the bar into his hands, waved a hurried goodbye, and took off running towards her end of the city away from him. She didn't look back, hence Vaughn get the chance to identify the silly smile stretching across her icy hot cheeks.

Vaughn stood there for a few moments, unmoving, until he finally looked at the sweet in his palms. On the wrapper, her slanted handwriting stood out against the white wrapping:

"_Have a lovely Winter Harmony Day, Vaughn! Remember, this is Step 1 in your Experiment of Sweetness! Love, Chelsea." _

His cheeks colored a fierce red, Vaughn turned and finally left the park, cradling the chocolate bar in his hands their entire way back.

**0o0o0o0o**


	3. Chapter 3

**0o0o0o0o**

The holidays approached fast and without warning; the days in between flew by like the infinite snowflakes in the biting wind, never seeing the same one again.

The telltale signs of the holiday rush were about; traffic increased dramatically, the general noise in the city skyrocketed, and their park was as deserted as ever. In such busy days, many people didn't have time for even a few minutes of serenity. This was obvious, Vaughn thought, by simply observing the pinched, strained expressions of nearly everyone he saw.

Vaughn was of the exception, however. Having very little people to shop for, his schedule scarcely changed. 

Wake up, drink coffee, go to work, leave work, walk to the park, meet Chelsea, leave the park, go home, eat dinner, read the newspaper, go to bed.

So on the afternoon of the 23rd, left with an empty bracket in his schedule after work, Vaughn found himself standing in front of A Day Latte. He entered the cozy coffee shop, and was surprised to see it nearly empty. He would have thought the place would be crowded with those in-between shoppers, people looking for an extra boost of manic energy to finish their shopping in record timing. The sooner they could get back to their families waiting at home, the better.

"Can I help you, sir?" the woman behind the cash register asked Vaughn, bringing his attention back to the present. She had a peculiar expression on her young face, and Vaughn wondered how long he had been standing there, lost in his own thoughts.

"A black coffee please," Vaughn responded, and the woman nodded and bustled off to make his drink.

Looking around the place, there were but a few people inside. There was an older man warming himself by the fire while he read the newspaper. Two women chatting quietly off in the corner, on one of the rosewood leather couches. A familiar looking couple sitting in two counter seats, peacefully sipping their drinks. Perhaps they were the ones that regularly had visited the park before the bad weather had arrived.

Vaughn paid for his drink and sat down at the armchair nearest the window. Remarkably, it wasn't snowing, and he could see the hectic blocks of cars and buses as they drove past erratically. Headlights pierced the shadows that the setting sun created, and he could hear holiday songs bursting from the mouths of nearby carolers.

As often happened when he wasn't concentrating on anything in particular, thoughts of Chelsea wandered into Vaughn's mind as he stared out the window. He began to wonder if she was with her father yet, and what he was like. She hadn't elaborated on her family other than the basics, and the fact that her parents had divorced when she was young. Did she have aunts, uncles? Cousins? Grandparents, even?

A strange, nostalgic feeling crept up Vaughn's spine, and he shivered despite the warmth of the shop. He hadn't spoken with his own family since he had left all those years ago. He wondered if they had changed, his aunt and cousin. They were the closest thing to family he knew, and was somewhat dismayed to realize that in his own way, he almost missed their company. _What a strange feeling, _he thought absently to himself. He did not feel the scalding liquid burn his mouth as he took a sip; he barely registered the taste.

Vaughn finished his drink with a last, huge gulp, and left the shop. He walked home in silence, as slowly as possible. Ice- packed snow crunched under his boots, and he wrapped his scarf around his neck tightly. He didn't know why it suddenly bothered him now that nobody was waiting for him at his apartment, as it never had before. Vaughn had never been the type to get lonely, or crave much social interaction. But maybe he should just get a pet or something, in the very least. He worked in the animal industry, after all. It wouldn't be such a hard thing to do.

And then, the idea hit him full on, stopping him mid-step in the dead center of the sidewalk bordering his desolate apartment. The perfect idea, one so obvious it almost made him smile at the fact that he hadn't thought of it earlier. He did have one more person he could buy something for: Chelsea. And the gift would be flawless, possibly the best he'll ever have given away. Vaughn unlocked the door to his apartment and ducked inside, a lean grin gracing his features.

The next day, the 24th, Vaughn was unusually alert at work, furtively searching for the perfect gift he knew had to be waiting there somewhere. Business was slow, with the occasional meandering person inspecting the adoptees, usually leaving as empty handed as they came. Rows of pens, full of animals of all kinds greeted him with their assorted noises as he swept down the aisles in his pursuit of Chelsea's gift.

Right when he was beginning to lose hope and turn back, it was as if something possessed him. Unsure of what was causing him to feel the need to do so, Vaughn turned on his heels and pushed open the door to Hallway G. This was the last and most sparsely populated hallway. Vaughn trudged through the hallway, frowning, until he reached the very end. In one of the last cages was a small, skinny puppy. He looked up at Vaughn with a sad, hopeful glint in his droopy eyes, and he immediately knew that this was the one he had been looking for. He reserved the dog under his name, and finished his shift in record timing. Vaughn retraced his steps back to the dog's pen and took him home in a carrier, as the shelter was closed tomorrow for the remainder of the holidays.

Upon reaching his place, Vaughn freed the pup from his carrier, and watched in amusement as the quirky creature wagged his tail and yipped and followed him all over the apartment. He set up a temporary food bowl and bed for the energetic canine. Vaughn sat back and watched as the puppy curled up in the small pet bed, feeling confident in his choice of a gift for his first friend in a long time.

The 25th arrived stealthily, startling Vaughn with its existence as he woke up on the ground, being licked and nipped by an impatient puppy. Noticing a subtle ache in his neck, he remembered falling asleep in one of his kitchen chairs. Grumbling, he managed to pull on a decent amount of winter apparel and leash the dog before being nearly dragged out of the door.

Outside, the sky was an unusually blue color for early morning, as Vaughn noted on his way to the park with the highly satisfied dog. A certain cheer was clearly present in the atmosphere, and though he didn't readily admit it, even Vaughn found himself affected by it. He spent the day strolling through the nearby parts of the city, window shopping and inattentively admiring the decorations that were abundant in each direction he looked.

It seemed like ages before the evening arrived, bringing the usual flutter of snowflakes with it. Vaughn walked up to her apartment door, checking and rechecking the slip of paper with her address she had given him a few days ago. Watching as the usual spattering of strangers crossed his vision, he knocked before he could begin to hesitate and let better sense get a hold of him. Seconds passed, and Vaughn resisted the urge to check her address again. Maybe she didn't live her at all, and had purposefully given him the wrong address. Or maybe she was out of town still. She could be still with her brother and his wife; she had said they were coming in to visit…

And then, Chelsea was suddenly there, waving a hand in front of his face with a small smile. Vaughn blinked, and became momentarily inarticulate upon looking at her.

Her curled caramel hair cascaded across her shoulders and framed her face, which was only illuminated by the slightest touches of makeup. She wore a simple gray sweater and her trademark red scarf, paired with blue jeans and short black boots. A strangely fashionable outfit for a strangely effortless girl. Although, he couldn't help but to think that her appearance was somehow gilded; though tweaked to near perfection on the outside, something seemed off about her.

"You look different," Vaughn finally said, realizing he had been silent at her greeting. "In a good way, I mean."

"Thank you, I suppose," Chelsea responded, digging her toe into the ground. She looked back up at him, seemingly having remembered that they were still standing outside, and gave him a more sincere looking smile. "Come inside! It's freezing out here. I'm really glad that you decided to come over."

They stepped back inside, and Chelsea led him to her living room area. Vaughn was rather impressed by it; she obviously saw this place as her true home. Her character was personified within everything. The walls were painted a warm mahogany color, and the furniture melded well with it in different shades of white, brown, and red. There were several hanging photographs, as well as many small plants by several of the windows. A stone fireplace stood in the center of the room, surrounded by two armchairs and a loveseat. It smelled of cinnamon and fire, an intimate scent reminding Vaughn of an old home he used to know.

"You've got a nice home," Vaughn remarked, as he watched Chelsea prod the fire with a poker. Its flames roared, and she stepped back, satisfied.

"Aren't you just full of compliments tonight?" she teased, a genuine happiness coloring her tone. "Sit down, and tell me about your last few days. Do anything fun?"

The pair sat down across from each other in opposing armchairs as Vaughn recalled what little, insignificant things he had done in her absence. It wasn't until he was in the middle of speaking that it began to bother him slightly, the lack of life he seemed to have when she wasn't around. It was a few minutes after he mentioned being off work today that he finally remembered his gift, sleeping soundly in the inside pocket of his jacket.

"I got you something," Vaughn began uneasily, beginning to unzip his pocket. "But I'm not sure you'll like it. If you don't, just say so."

A sporadic giggle escaped her lips, and Chelsea covered her mouth with one of her hands. "You sound so serious. It's from you, how could I not like it?"

"Close your eyes," Vaughn ordered, ignoring her rhetorical question. "And put your hands out."

She did what he said, the ghost of a smile still etched on her face. Vaughn gingerly removed the bleary puppy from his pocket, made sure the red ribbon he had tied around him just minutes before was straight, and carefully placed in her hands.

"You can open your eyes now."

Chelsea looked at her hands, and let out a small squealing sound, her eyes growing to disproportionate sizes. For a few moments she seemed unable to speak, staring down at the stirring creature in her palms.

"A dog!" she whisper-shrieked, having recovered from her shock. "You got me a dog! Vaughn! A dog…"

"I can't tell if you're liking it or not," he mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets awkwardly and looking away.

"Oh my goodness, I love it," she whispered, holding the dog up to her face. The creature squeaked and lapped at her nose, causing Chelsea to begin laughing. Vaughn was content with watching her interact with the ecstatic dog; he bathed in the satisfaction of picking out a good gift.

Seemingly remembering he was there, Chelsea swiveled in her seat towards him, a blinding smile shining towards him. "You…are so great, Vaughn. I just can't even…believe you got me this little guy. A _puppy!_ It's quite perfect, you know. I always get so lonely, living on my own…But I guess that's over and done with, now that I have this guy."

She kissed the puppy's wet nose, and set him down on the floor. More excited than ever, the puppy panted and looked adoringly up at his new owner.

"He already seems to have taken a liking for you," Vaughn mused quietly. He fished out another small bag from the other coat pocket, and handed it to Chelsea. "Here, you'll need these. A food bowl, foldable dog bed, and enough food to last a little while."

Chelsea flashed Vaughn another smile, this one more bashful, and took the bag from him. "I can't begin to thank you enough, Vaughn," she murmured, placing the bag on the floor beside her. She looked back up at him and that rare expression he had only seen on her face a couple of times was there.

"Why are you so good to me, Vaughn?" she asked, her head cocked slightly to the left. Vaughn rolled his eyes, causing her to frown a bit and turn in Vaughn's direction so she was fully facing him. When she didn't say anything, he realized she was waiting for an answer still.

"We're friends… If you'd prefer me to treat you badly, just say the magic word."

"Well, of course I don't want that," Chelsea said, the smile returning to her face as she gazed at him appraisingly. Out of nowhere, she jumped back a little, and her mouth formed a small 'o' shape.

"Oh my gosh! I don't know how I almost forgot. I got you a gift as well…Stay here a minute, will you?"

Without waiting for a reply, the spritely woman darted off deeper into her apartment, as Vaughn stared back after her in puzzlement. She returned in a matter of minutes, with her own wrapped box in her slender arms. A goofy smile he had definitely seen before was plastered on her face, and Vaughn found himself smiling, despite his self-established rule against doing so this often.

"What! Are you smiling, Mr. Vaults? It's a shame I don't have a camera," she giggled, and threw the box at him gently. Vaughn caught it smoothly, and raised an eyebrow at her before looking back down at it.

"Go on…open it. I hope you'll like it. I saw it in the front window of a store one day by work…it reminded me of you, for some reason."

Tearing back the wrapping paper, Vaughn found himself looking down at his childhood. Or at least, it was a near doppelganger for the black Stetson hat he had worn all those years ago. But how…?

"I, ah…I like this very much, Chelsea. Thank you," Vaughn replied, feeling the edges of the hat gently. A wave of nostalgia crashed over him, and long buried memories resurfaced with this duplicate from his past. "I had something nearly identical to this when I was a kid…Thank you."

Vaughn placed the Stetson on his head, reveling in the still familiar fit it seemed to have.

She smiled at him in wonder, and replied, "You're welcome. I'm glad you liked it, actually. I was beginning to worry."

Shaking his head and forcing back his own smile, Vaughn met her gaze with one of inquiry. "You didn't get to telling me about your own holiday. How was visiting your family?"

If Vaughn hadn't been watching her face closely, he wouldn't have detected the barely detectable falling of the features on her face. And if he hadn't been listening carefully, he certainly wouldn't have pinpointed the slightest slip in her tone, betraying the untruthfulness behind her words.

"Oh, it was good. My parents seemed happy. Much more so then when they were together. And Mark and Natalie are thriving. They're expecting a little boy, soon," she explained, wandering over to stand by the window as she talked. Vaughn watched her from his seat, his fingers curled around the arms of the chair.

"Everyone seemed to be very happy," she finished quietly, clasping her hands in front of her tightly. Red and green lights shone in from the outdoor world, reflecting onto her pale face. The snow continued to fall in heavy quantities, making for the whitest holiday they'd seen in years. The aura of the room had shifted dramatically, nothing like the bubbly cheerfulness that had been present seconds before.

"Then what's bothering you?" Vaughn finally asked, remaining still in the armchair. Something chained him there, not allowing him to move. Chelsea didn't turn, but he watched as her shoulders slumped at his words.

"Nothing, really," she replied, still staring out into the city. "I'm not exactly sure. It's stupid, really. It's just that everyone seemed so…content. Satisfied. Accomplished."

"What do you mean?"

"Their lives seem to have fallen into place just perfectly. My father's happy with his 'dream woman'. My mother's moving on up the career ladder, and preoccupied with her new family. Mark's married, and having a kid! And here I am…in a sort of rut, you could say. Stuck in this city, not really accomplishing much of anything or making an impact on anyone. All of them are so happy with their lives. And I'm just…not. It's like there's something missing."

She sighed, and turned halfway to Vaughn. "Sorry you had to hear all that. It just kind of spilled out."

Vaughn shook his head, dismissing her apology. "Don't be sorry. Better out than in."

Chelsea nodded, and Vaughn got up to stand behind her. They watched the holiday lights shine through the snow, gleaming and mesmerizing.

"What are you going to do?" Vaughn asked after a while, watching the petite girl in front of him with an uncommon level of tenderness.

"What do you mean?" Chelsea replied, looking up at him with those wide, blue eyes in that way she always did.

"What are you going to do?" Vaughn repeated, suddenly unable to keep from glancing at her lips. Her eyes remained on his though, and he thought she wasn't going to answer his question.

"I don't know yet," she artlessly replied, and hugged herself as though she were cold. Vaughn resumed his usual position behind her, hands shoved in pockets and slightly slouched posture. He wanted it to be his arms around her, keeping her warm. The thought sent a familiar, spiraling current of dread down his neck.

"Feeling a bit world sick?" he asked, after a prolonged silence.

A ghost of a smile passed along Chelsea's drawn, suddenly tired face. "I suppose so…World sick. That's a good word for it."

They stood in silence at Chelsea's apartment window like they so often did at their park, until they parted their farewells for the night; the weight of the holidays' end pressing down hard on their cores.

**0o0o0o0o**


	4. Chapter 4

**0o0o0o0o**

The days carried on as they always did, despite any half-hearted protests for a halt in time. The holiday season passed them by, and before they could blink, the New Year had begun. Chelsea and Vaughn watched as the snow that had seemed so very formidable in the colder months began to slowly recede. With their exit came the return of flowers and leaves, peering out from earthy orifices. The sun fought to break through the surviving icy days, radiating tenacious warmth on the busting city. The reappearance of small animals pleased Chelsea especially.

"Look," she told Vaughn one day, tugging on his black shirt like an inquisitive child. Both persons had shed their coats at the bench today; the sun was warming their blood enough to do without them. Chelsea had brought two coffees with her today again, courtesy of A Day Latte.

"What exactly am I looking at?" Vaughn asked, giving her a skeptical glance as he sipped at his coffee tersely.

"A chipmunk," Chelsea replied with a smile in her voice, pointing at a small, brown creature rustling the leaves of a nearby shrub. "There used to be a ton of those little guys all over the farm I lived on when I was younger."

"You lived on a farm?" Vaughn queried, surprised. He was constantly getting surprised over this girl, over the things he didn't know about. It was strange, considering how close he felt to her over the course of only a couple of months.

She nodded, and the movement seemed to have alerted the small mammal of their presence. Its head popped up and looked at them with a small nut in its mouth, causing Chelsea to laugh. The sudden sound startled it, however, and the chipmunk darted off further into the greenery that bordered the park's fences.

Chelsea watched it go silently, before abruptly turning her head upward to stare at the towering trees above. Suddenly she turned to Vaughn instead, that smile still gracing her face and turning everything around her a little brighter.

"Can you climb trees?"

"…What?" Vaughn asked, narrowing his amethyst eyes at her strange question. Of course he had climbed trees…After all; he had grown up in the country, too. Tree climbing was a recreational activity that everybody who was anybody could do proficiently.

"Can you climb trees!" Chelsea repeated, jumping a little at the last word. An idea was brewing away in that head of hers; from the time Vaughn had spent with this strange girl, he knew this could be a dangerous prospect.

"Of course I can climb trees," Vaughn scoffed, rolling his eyes sardonically. "Why do you ask?"

"We're going to climb to the top of that tree, over there." Chelsea pointed again in a direction not far from where they were standing now, deeper into the park's boundaries. An elm tree stood where she pointed, one of the few located in the park. Although it wasn't the tallest in the park, its limbs were the most notable, by far. Reaching out in every direction possible, and with nearly unbreakable branches, it was venerable to say the least. New growth sheathed the bark in lush green, suddenly reminding Vaughn that with the imminent arrival of spring, his birthday would arrive soon.

"We?" Vaughn balked, digging his boot's heels into the ground as Chelsea unsuccessfully attempted to drag him along. Fortunately, as usual he had the advantage of superior stature and weight. It was like holding back a kitten. A snarling, obstinate, determined kitten who wanted the bigger dog to play silly kitten games with her.

However, let it be duly noted that the dog regretfully seemed to harbor a soft spot for said kitten.

"Will you please move?" Chelsea grunted, leaning into the ground while pulling on his arm. "C'mon, humor me. Just this once. Unless you really can't climb trees. Then I suppose I could teach you…in exchange for your soul. If you even have one."

"I can climb trees just fine. I just don't see the _point_ of climbing this one," he replied, ignoring the soul comment.

Chelsea sighed again, and looked up at Vaughn with a withered expression. A cleverly disguised sorrow lurked behind it, pressing up against her eyes. But it vanished so fast, Vaughn wasn't sure he saw it at all. Yet another common instance that always seemed to happen around her.

"Do you even know how to have fun, Vaughn?" Chelsea intoned, ceasing her tugging.

Somewhat offended, Vaughn rolled his eyes. "Of course I know how to have fun…"

"When was the last time you had this 'fun' you speak of?"

Vaughn colored a deep crimson when he couldn't come up with a specific time after several seconds. He paged through memory after memory, and although he recalled times in which he was content...He couldn't recall the last time he had actual _fun._

"Um," he managed lamely. Chelsea tsked at him teasingly, and smiled crookedly at his uneasiness.

"Obviously you don't have enough of it, if you can't remember. So let's go."

This time, Vaughn didn't try and stop her from pulling him in the direction she wanted. He was lost in thought again, unsettled. When had his life turned boring and dull, an endless cycle of dreariness?

He didn't feel like it was. Not anymore, at least. Not in the last few months.

Vaughn nearly bowled over Chelsea as she stopped suddenly at the base of the tree, grinning up at it mischievously. After a few seconds, she frowned and furrowed her eyebrows before glancing waywardly at Vaughn.

"Get on your knees, big boy."

Vaughn spluttered on his coffee mid drink, nearly doubling over as spasms of coughing racked his chest. Chelsea watched him with a detached amusement as he gathered his bearings, looking up to her quite dizzily after a few seconds.

"What…did you say?"

To his surprise, Chelsea giggled uncomfortably and turned a charming shade of pink. "I didn't mean it to sound…bad. I just…Would you help me get up there?"

Vaughn chuckled at the direction the conversation had unintentionally turned, and before Chelsea could argue he scooped her up from the ground and placed her on his shoulders. A surprised "Oh!" rushed from her mouth, followed by bubbly laughter.

"I didn't mean like this, you dork! But now that I'm up here…Could you go stand right under that branch?" Chelsea asked, steering him in the right direction. Her hair brushed against the left side of his face, giving Vaughn the goose bumps. He brought her directly underneath a particularly thick branch, when he felt her shift positions.

"Don't move," she muttered, as he felt her precariously stand up on his shoulders and grasp the branch. She swung into the tree, smooth like she had been living in one for the past winter. The leaves disguised her within, so it was only from hearing her voice that he could pick at her location.

"Come on up!" Chelsea hollered from above his head. "Unless you're chickening out."

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Vaughn mumbled, pulling himself up into the twisting tree limbs with ease. His long legs made it easier to reach and navigate through the maze of branches, and he quickly found himself at the top of the Elm, his head poked through the leaves. He was surprised at the height they had climbed to, how far from the ground the Elm was in reality. Chelsea stood next to him, her face glowing with marvel. She looked to him and grinned big.

The entire park was visible from where they stood, like a spread out map. Green caps of trees freckled the land, and the full expanse of the shadowy blue pond stretching across the park could be seen. The people who milled about, more in number due to the warmer weather, looked insignificantly small. Up there, the wind tossed around their hair and nipped at their flushing cheeks. The air tasted fresher and cleaner, and every inhale sent a pleasurable chill through their bodies.

Vaughn could see well past the trivial park fences as well. He took in the vendors on the streets below, the cars zooming by. He could see the items in the windows of several shops; wedding dresses, savory food delicacies, even baby apparel. A performer was attracting the attention of many passersby with the rich, romantic notes of his violin. Dollars littered the inside of the case, and Vaughn watched as a couple seemed to appear out of nowhere and begin dancing in harmony with the resonant piece.

"Oh," Chelsea breathed, and a sudden chuckle rumbled through Vaughn's chest. "I feel like I'm on…a plane or something."

Vaughn raised his eyebrows fallaciously, but found himself allowing a small grin to break through his wind-bitten skin. "On a plane, you're much higher than this."

"You've been on one before?" Chelsea inquired dreamily, staring at him wistfully. "I hope to go on one, someday…Tell me about it?"

As they watched their park stir with life below them, Vaughn told her about the few plane rides he had been on in the duration of his lifetime. He enjoyed the feeling of weightlessness that came with flying, knowing that he was thousands of feet in the air, and strangely enough, thinking about the possibility of the plane suddenly just dropping from the sky. It didn't scare him, like it may for most people. He was merely intrigued by the million-to-one chance that it could happen.

He told her about how the land looked when you were flying. The flatter lands for agriculture, the way they looked like assorted squares of brown and green. The seemingly boundless lengths of bodies of water, how if you looked closely enough you could often see the largest vessels drifting across the waves. But most of all, Vaughn liked seeing the mountains. The rise and fall of land in graceful arcs, snowcapped and rugged.

In a darkly ironic way, Vaughn could compare himself to a mountain, both physically and mentally. Few who attempt to climb a mountain make it completely to the peak.

"Wow," Chelsea said in response. The sun had begun its descent as Vaughn talked. The sky was a milky blue in color, with the occasional pink blotches that faded to purple farther out into the sky.

"I think that's the most I've ever heard you say at one given time," she said, glancing at Vaughn with a teasing glint in her eye.

"And you'll be lucky to ever hear me say that much again," Vaughn replied dryly, attempting to stretch out his tiring legs. As often happened around Chelsea, time had been lost on him. How long had they been standing at the top of this Elm tree?

"Aw, by now I think you should know I'm kidding," she laughed. "I don't know about you…but my legs are killing me, balancing on this branch. Race you down?"

"Don't kill yourself or me trying to get there first," Vaughn warned, but Chelsea was already halfway down. Vaughn cautiously lowered himself afterwards, nearly losing footing in the swiftly encroaching darkness.

His feet hit the ground with a thud, and Vaughn looked up through strands of his hair to see Chelsea a few feet away, staring up at the moon that had come out of hiding. She was slightly raised on her toes, her arms parted off behind her. It gave the impression that she was stretching towards the moon, yearning to be close to it.

"I'll walk you back to your apartment," Vaughn said, and without another word Chelsea followed him out of the park willingly. The bistro sang its heart out as they passed it by, an old ditty Vaughn concluded had a good sound.

"Look at the stars," the willowy girl walking next to him said, and Vaughn followed Chelsea's gaze to the sky. They stopped at the steps to her apartment building, staring up at the constellations that seemed to be forming right before their eyes.

"Those stars are already dead, you know. I once read something about by the time the light from stars reaches us on the earth, those stars are already burned out."

There was something vaguely sad about that, if it was true, Vaughn thought. Had nobody ever seen a star while it was still burning with life? Was every star they had ever seen a mere ghost of its already extinguished self?

"I like the moon better anyway," Vaughn found himself blurting. He felt Chelsea's eyes on him, but ignored the sensation it gave him. He was long used to it, by this time.

"Have you ever wanted to leave this city behind?" Chelsea asked him suddenly, slowly walking up the stone steps. "See what else is out there to offer?"

Of course he had. Occasional traveling was a part of his job, explaining his trips on an airplane. But he was convinced that there wasn't much else _to_ offer out there. However tempting it was to think that there was a bigger, better place out there just waiting. As the saying went, the grass always seems greener on the other side of the fence.

"Yeah, I have. Why?"

She shrugged lightly, closing her eyes. "I'unno. I suppose I'm just curious, is all. I've been thinking about it a lot lately. What does this town even have to offer?"

"A lot. Plenty of jobs, decent pay, places to live…"

"But there's so much more to life than that, right? Sometimes I feel like I'm being suffocated in this city…"

Chelsea leaned against the railing on the steps, watching Vaughn with those depthless sapphire jewels, freezing him in place. The synapses in his brain shuddered, and he couldn't look away.

"What makes you think whatever's out there is better than here?"

Immediately, Vaughn regretted what his response upon seeing Chelsea's reaction. Her expression shut down, and a wall shot up in its place. She became unreadable; a hollow feeling squeezed in between Vaughn's ribcage.

"I don't know. If I stop believing that there might this whole other world that I'm just not aware of yet, what will happen then? I've got to keep dreaming…"

Chelsea walked up the remainder of the steps, and pushed open the apartment building's front door. She stepped halfway inside, before turning to look at Vaughn again. He stood at the bottom of the steps, rooted to the spot. Turned to stone.

"Goodnight, Vaughn. I hope you had fun climbing trees today. And thanks for walking me back home." Chelsea smiled once, and a flicker of her old self was there, before she shut the door.

Vaughn blinked, and with a growingly familiar sense of dread, began the long shuffle home. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was changing; something was shifting the world around him. It surrounded him like a dismal cloud.

**0o0o0o0o**

The cherry blossoms on the trees always seemed to appear in the days surrounding Vaughn's birthday. As he had expected, the third day of March, of fully-fledged spring, provided an abundance of them. Light pink dotted the ground beneath the columns of cherry trees lining the main path of the park.

Vaughn sprawled his long legs out across their bench, exhibiting a rare instance of fatigue. Despite it being his birthday, he had suffered a particularly tiresome day of work. Opportunely, Chelsea had told him the previous day she would be late to the park today, so he had the time to sit back and silently work through the headache that was forming in his temples. Placing his Stetson over his face to block the angle of sun that shone in his direction, Vaughn closed his eyes…

"Wake up, Vaughn. Sleepyhead. Wakey wakey. Your present is going to get cold, wake up! Lazy man…get up!"

Vaughn promptly awoke in the midst of falling to the ground, executing rather ungraceful movements on the way down. Cracking his head on the ground, he groaned, and blearily opened his eyes to see a grinning Chelsea standing above him. Her dog, which she had ended up giving the name Levitt to, yipped cheerfully down at him as well.

"Didn't have to shove me off the bench…" Vaughn growled, sitting up gingerly. He adjusted his Stetson and got up, ignoring Chelsea's offered hand. She rolled her eyes in response, but grinned up at him sweetly.

"You weren't responding to anything else. And besides, I need to give you your present. "

"Present…?" Vaughn asked.

"Don't play dumb with me, mister. Of course I know it's your birthday. And being the good friend I am, I made you something."

Fishing around in her knapsack, Chelsea pulled out a covered Tupperware bowl, and thrust it into Vaughn's hands, beaming. Her mood had lifted from the thoughtful brooding one of the previous week. Bubbly and friendly, this personality was natural to her being.

"What…?" Vaughn muttered, looking to Chelsea for an explanation. "How did you know…?"

"I have my ways," Chelsea interrupted with a wink. "You think I wouldn't somehow find out when your birthday was? How old are you turning anyway?"

"Twenty-six," Vaughn said, before he fell into silence, simply staring with wide eyes down at the bowl. It was purple, much like his own eyes. Briefly he wondered if she had done that on purpose. He was sure it would taste good; anything Chelsea could have cooked for him would taste good.

"Th…Thank you," he stuttered, his tongue betraying him. "This is…one of my favorites. How could you have possibly known? Don't remember telling you… S'pose it don't really matter, I'm just curious…"

Chelsea's smile grew before his eyes, and for some reason Vaughn felt the need to pull his hat down so it would shield his face. "Gosh, Vaughn. If I knew giving gifts flustered you to the point of talking this much, I should do it more often!"

Vaughn glared as his face darkened more. "I'm not flustered. You're imagining things."

She giggled again, a favored sound to his ears, and shuffled up to him with arms held wide. Vaughn narrowed his eyes, trying to understand what she was doing.

Taking initiative, Chelsea tackled Vaughn in a hug, her tiny arms barely managing to loop all the way around his torso. Slowly, Vaughn hugged her back, his touch sensitivity off the charts. He felt her slender frame, the curve of her body. Her heartbeat ricocheted off his own chest, and he wondered if it was only his own breathing that seemed impaired.

She was the first to let go, with a quiet "hmm" noise. Vaughn lowered his arms so they were touching hers. The exhaustion from earlier had all but disappeared; his body was coursing with energy now, itching to escape in any way possible.

They remained in this semi-embrace for a few more seconds, until Chelsea sighed and dropped her arms. Vaughn did the same, looking anywhere but her face.

"Ah…I guess we should be leaving. It's already late, so-"

Soft lips touched the edge of his jaw, and the words fell soundless from his mouth. Then they were gone, and a half-lidded Chelsea pulled away.

"I'll see you later then, Vaughn. Hope you have a nice rest of the night. And hope the porridge is okay!"

Being the mysterious girl she was, Chelsea was gone from his sight before he could blink twice. Vaughn gently touched his jaw, before realizing a select few people around him chuckling and smiling at him. Looking around, he noticed quite a few more people giving him the thumbs-up, or winking.

He high-tailed it out of the park as fast as he could.

**0o0o0o0o**


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: Hello readers! Just a quick note about an error I made in Chapter 3. An anonymous reviewer let me know that I accidentally wrote "Sabrina" instead of "Natalie" as Mark's wife. I'd like to thank whoever it was who let me know, for I've fixed it and Mark is now married to only ONE woman, and that is Natalie. I swear, I never intended him to seem like a polygamist or anything. Anyways, thanks for reading and hope you enjoy this chapter of __World Sick__!_

**0o0o0o0o**

It was as though someone hit the fast forward button from there on. As the sun reappeared from the opposite side of the world, their schedules seemed to become more and more occupied. Chelsea resumed her second part time job at the gardening shop, looking happier than Vaughn had ever seen her before. He had happened upon the shop once on his way to work to say hello, and coincidentally looked into the building's side yard to see her kneeling on the ground with a dirty trowel. A quiet tune fluttered from her lips as she patted dirt down over new seeds. A peaceful expression graced her features, erasing any hints of city-induced stress away. It always managed to send that strange, familiar feeling through the pit of Vaughn's stomach.

As for himself, although his somewhat monotonous job remained the same, Vaughn found said farmer occupying his thoughts more than he would ever care to admit. Since his birthday weeks ago, the girl had been tumbling around in his mind, round and round again. No matter what he tried, it seemed the personage of her was always in there somewhere, smiling around the proverbial edges of his mind.

The two continued to visit almost daily, in the same place. They loved their own little corner of the world fiercely, and in a way the park almost seemed to love them back. The trees and flowers reached for the sun's ever increasing heat, thriving from the warmth that had been starved of them all winter. The sun seemed to have similar effects on Chelsea, too; perhaps it had something to do with her natural earth affinity. The brooding pensiveness that had captured her far too often in the colder months was replaced with a careless freedom, a seemingly infallible optimism.

The arrival of the month of May shocked Vaughn into thoughtful awareness; Chelsea's birthday was the twentieth. What could he give her that would possibly measure up to her gift to him on his own birthday?

Granted, to anyone else porridge may not seem like anything special. But for Vaughn, it held a plethora of memories. Good ones, at that. So of course it had been a pleasant and memorable surprise when Chelsea, who knew next to nothing of his background, presented him with the best porridge he'd had in years.

It didn't come to him until a week before her birthday, after he had seen her in the gardening yard again. She was talking, though no one was in hearing distance; she was one of the few employees with enough experience in gardening to care for the plants under her boss's approval.

Chelsea lay on her stomach, kicking her legs back and forth. She was watching one of the plants with an expression of pride. She put her chin in her hands, and smiled.

"You see, I knew you'd grow. Only took some care and nourishment. And now look at you. With some simple attention, you became one of the loveliest flowers in the garden."

Leaning over the fence posts, Vaughn cleared his throat uneasily, locking his fingers together. Chelsea started and swung her head towards him, only for a smile to break out across her face as she recognized him.

"Vaughn! Hi! What are you doing here? Don't you have work?"

" 'M on my way," he grumbled, flexing his fingers again. "Thought I heard a familiar voice behind this fence. Turns out it was you, talking to _flowers_."

Pushing a sweaty strand of hair from her eyes, Chelsea gave a short little laugh. "Ah, you heard that? No wonder you had such a weird expression on your face…Don't think I'm crazy or anything, but if I talk to my plants, they always seem to grow better."

Vaughn raised his eyebrows skeptically. "You sure it's not your green thumb?"

She shrugged, and grinned a bit. "Maybe. But I found that it relaxes me, too."

Chelsea turned so she was facing the flower again, and she patted the ground packed around the flower lovingly. Looking at it in detail for the first time, Vaughn noticed the flower was quite unusual looking: it was almost circular in shape, the petals curving so that they always faced each other. It was a light purple color, a shade that touched on certain delicateness.

"This is called a Globe Amaranth. You know why?" Chelsea began vaguely, her eyes lighting up. The corners of Vaughn's mouth twitched as she carried on prattling, and he set his chin down in his hand, already coming to terms that he would be late to work.

"They bloom in almost any conditions, and nonstop at that. A never-ending flower. One of those flowers you plant, and watch thrive all the way until the first frost. But what I think is so interesting about this plant, is the name," she said.

"What's special about the name?" Vaughn asked interested more in hearing her words of description than the facts themselves.

"'Amaranth' comes from a Greek word meaning immortal or unfading… They're often used in romantic gestures because of it. Weddings and such. It's pretty sweet, I think…"

Nodding his neutral agreement, Vaughn muttered an excuse about having to go to work and coasted away from the garden shop, missing Chelsea's quiet "Goodbye" and resumption of singing.

Vaughn drifted through his work, brooding about what he had heard, trying to decipher what she had meant. Did she even mean anything by it, or was it simply a statement? Vaughn shook his head angrily at the mere idea. No matter, it had given Vaughn a solution to his dilemma: an idea for what to give her on the twentieth.

He walked into his apartment that night, and turned on the lights in the living room. He slowly pulled out one of the drawers in a cabinet, setting it on the ground. Shoving his hand in the space it left behind, he pulled out a dilapidated looking sketch book. Flipping through it, his unsteady hands came to a new page. He pulled the pencil out from within the bindings, and got to work. His aunt and cousin entered his mind like ghosts, the very people who had encouraged this natal skill to flourish, and it was like they were sitting right beside him as he plotted out the most basic of shapes.

**0o0o0o0o**

She took the framed glass paper from his hands carefully, transfixed. Vaughn watched her carefully, taking in her dropped jaw and widened eyes.

In it, a girl lay on her stomach, legs suspended in the air. A fragile flower blossomed before her, its petals spreading not open to the world, but towards each other in a search for comfort. The girl's hair twisted around her heart face, framing it like a wreath. A telltale bandana held back most of the escaping strands, though a selected few tendrils hung in her eyes. Small hands cradled her chin, and her eyes were half-lidded. An irresistibly familiar smile grew on the girl's face, like she harbored a secret no one else knew.

Reluctantly Chelsea's eyes left the sketch, and met Vaughn's, whom had been watching her reaction.

"How did you…? I never…I didn't…This is…_beautiful. _You drew this?"

"Yes," Vaughn murmured, dropping his own eyes. "An old talent. I hadn't done anything in years before that one. You like it?"

"Oh, I love it," she whispered, gazing back at it. "Only….how?"

"The gardening yard," Vaughn simply replied. When she looked puzzled, Vaughn reluctantly reminded her of the time he had found her in the garden. Comprehension dawned across her face, and she nodded absently.

"Um…I hope you're not creeped out by this…I just wanted to get you something that would level up to your gift for me. And I thought… you always looked relaxed at that place, so you must enjoy it there. Not that I pay _that_ much attention, 'cause I don't –"

Her arms roped around his neck, and he felt Chelsea's mouth laugh against his chest. "You must be flustered," she giggled. "You don't have to explain yourself to me. And it's not creepy. This is a better gift than the dog. You're definitely winning in the gift-giving compartment."

"How?" Vaughn asked bemusedly, finally returning the embrace by placing his arms around her waist gingerly.

"It's personal. You put your own time into this. And I love it," she said, tightening her grip around his chest. "It means more to me than you know."

His restraint breaking, Vaughn grabbed Chelsea's chin, forcing her to look at him. She didn't flinch, or seem startled; she only gazed up at him with those chillingly calm, blue eyes. Waiting, simply waiting for him.

"_You_ mean more to me than you know," he murmured, locked in to those endless ocean eyes.

"Then why don't you do something about it?" Chelsea whispered after a few seconds, muscles shifting into a smile under Vaughn's fingertips.

Cupping her face in his calloused, unsteady hands, Vaughn kissed her there, on the bench from the beginning. A gentle wind blew the last of the stray cherry blossoms across their heads, and he felt Chelsea smile under his own lips as they caught in her hair.

**0o0o0o0o**


	6. Chapter 6

**0o0o0o0o**

Hand in hand, they ambled down the sandy plain of beach, squinting through the sweltering sun and cloudless sky. They eventually came to the wooden boardwalk, where they continued on until they reached the very end. The sparkling water seemed to brand their eyes with a certain brightness as they stared across the endless waves of the ocean.

Sitting down, Chelsea placed the basket of food she had been carrying in her free hand in between them. As Vaughn sat down beside her, she snatched several strawberries from inside the basket and shoved them haphazardly into her mouth.

"One of these times you're going to choke," Vaughn reprimanded, shaking his head. "And then what?"

"I guess…then I'll have to depend on you to save my life and all," she replied, tossing at him one of the most devastatingly charming smiles that she held in her repertoire. Vaughn turned pink and looked away, making Chelsea laugh and struggle to lean over to kiss his warm cheek. Digging through the basket some more, she found an iced jug of milk and turning to thrust it into Vaughn's hands. He looked down, barely surprised, and muttered a "thanks" before turning the lid to take a sip.

"Isn't this a nice place?" Chelsea chattered, eyes alight. "I mean, I love our park. But I think going someplace different is good, sometimes. And this isn't even too far from the inner city. Only fifteen minutes or so away. Beaches are so pretty!"

Barely glancing at Vaughn, Chelsea smiled. Something about the way he gazed so wholly at her when she spoke was refreshing. Scooting towards him, she leaned her head on his shoulder, watching the water before them reflect the waning sun. He responded correspondingly, his arm pulling her by the side closer to him. Wherever he touched her, a tingling and warm feeling broke out, spreading like plumes of flame down her body.

To any outsider, they would look like the ideal boyfriend and girlfriend, young lovers in a bigger city. But as it was, Chelsea had gone against such labeling. She saw no need to define things; labels lead to all sorts of expectations and pre-conceived notions that not every relationship may meet, leading to disappointment in the end.

"As long as we know where we stand…There aren't any problems, right?" Chelsea had said.

As for Vaughn, he couldn't have agreed more.

"Vaughn?" Chelsea asked, craning her neck so she could see his jeweled eyes. They were half lidded as they looked down at him, smoothed over and relaxed.

"Mmm?"

"Will you tell me about yourself?" she asked, looking out at the waning sunlight. The temperature was dropping to something more bearable, which Chelsea embraced openly.

She felt him stiffen just enough so that it was noticeable, and found herself staring up at him again, unable to look away this time.

He was certainly a pleasure to look at, that was certain. A curtain of silver white hair, melding quite nicely with his sun-kissed skin. He had that type of facial bone structure that reminded Chelsea of a stone statue; chiseled, edgy, like someone really had carved him from a slab of marble. A square jaw, firm nose, medium high cheekbones. The eyes were what really sent her head spinning, though. A deep-set violet color, something so unusual Chelsea had never seen anything like it. In her opinion, such eyes were what made his face alluring in the first place.

She wouldn't allow herself to get started on the rest of his body.

"Vaughn?" she repeated when he hadn't answered. His hair had shifted in front of his face, hiding him away from her. Chelsea brought up a hand and pushed it away to see him looking straight ahead, brows furrowed.

'Yeah, okay," he finally ground out. "What would you like to know?"

"Everything," she said.

Vaughn snorted, and Chelsea didn't have to see him to know that he rolled his eyes in that derisive way of his. "That's vague."

"Let's start simple then, Mr. Specifics," Chelsea said dryly. "What's…your favorite season?"

"Spring," Vaughn decided, after a few moments' pause.

Chelsea smiled up at him, wordlessly waiting for an explanation.

"More money," Vaughn said simply. "More business."

"There has to be more than that to spring that you like…" Chelsea prompted, watching as his countenance shifted to a blank thoughtfulness.

"I guess…the new life. Everything reemerging, back from the deadness of winter. Plants, animals. Nice breezes, too. Lots of rain."

"You like the rain?" Chelsea asked, her smile glowing. "Me too. Rainy days are my favorite. I think spring's my favorite, too. For a lot of the same reasons. Least favorite?"

"Winter."

There was a certain coldness in his voice, a tone Chelsea hadn't heard as often in the most recent weeks. Fending back a shiver, she abruptly changed subjects without asking for an explanation.

"What's your favorite color?"

Unexpectedly, Vaughn laughed, a hardy, rough sound that seemed to stem from deep inside him. Chelsea laughed too, happily surprised. "What's so funny?" she asked.

"You're asking me what my _favorite color_ is?" Vaughn asked, and chuckled again. "Nice, ah…question. Real nice."

"Aw, shut up! I'd like to hear you come up with something better," Chelsea said, laughing again. "But really, what is it?"

He pretended to think for a few moments, narrowing his eyes at Chelsea playfully. "Blue," he finally decided, as his lips twitched into a half-smile. "Yours?"

Feeling a rush of shyness, the color purple flashed behind her eyes when the question registered in her mind.

"Well wouldn't you like to know," Chelsea hedged her statement as good as a confession. Vaughn's smile grew a knowing essence presence all around him. Eager to put the spotlight back on him, Chelsea picked up on her questioning.

"Let's see…Where did you grow up?"

Vaughn shifted then, unconsciously pulling away from her. Chelsea fretfully wondered if she had asked the wrong question. He put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, his face out of Chelsea's line of vision once more.

"A place not too far from here. In the country, on a farm."

He smiled wanly to himself, a brief tidbit of information coming back to him. "You also grew up in the country, if I remember correctly."

"You are correct," Chelsea replied, impressed that he had remembered that when she had thrown it out so casually. "We have a lot in common, it turns out."

"Indeed," Vaughn replied, before lapsing into one of his typical silences. By this time, Chelsea had learned enough about Vaughn's character to know that his silences were often an attempt to ward off a conversation he didn't wish to talk about.

But Chelsea was dying to know…_needed_ to know more about him. It was like a hunger that was never quite satisfied. So, ignorant and unknowing of what she could possibly be unearthing, she pressed on.

"Your family, Vaughn…?" she said gently, attempting to pull him back to her from whatever state he was in. "Tell me more about them."

His shoulders slumped, and he was silent for a few more moments, but he complied to her wishes nonetheless.

"Family…?" he seemed to enquire, as though it were a question. "I have no family."

Kneeling into his shoulder, Chelsea wrapped her arms around him again hesitantly. She expected him to push her away, but he only remained in the position, seemingly apathetic to anything she did.

"Got no parents. I was abandoned when I was little. Later found out they were dead," he deadpanned. It came like a silent bombshell, temporarily shocking Chelsea into silence.

"Just getting that out of the way. No awkwardness now," he muttered.

"I-"

"Don't say you're sorry," Vaughn said, pressing his calloused fingers against Chelsea's lips. "There's nothing you have to be sorry for."

When she remained silent, Vaughn began talking. Chelsea listened with intent, getting the feeling that this wasn't something he could talk about to just any person, at any time; he was not one to tell the world everything about himself.

He told her about the farm he had lived on for the first five years of his life, with his mother and father. The money was often tight, and arguments broke out often, but Vaughn hadn't known of anything better; everyone may have lived the same way he did. Up until he was nearly six, it had been the happiest time of his life…

_The weeks approaching his sixth birthday, Vaughn had listened to them argue and scream at each other each night, from the door of his room. When morning came, his mother and father always were back to their normal selves. In the rare instances that Vaughn would become worried, the reassurance of the next morning's normalcy always took away the anxiety. _

_And then, one morning, he walked into the kitchen and saw no one there. They had gone in the night, leaving behind a house full of useless, material items. Not even a note explaining their departure. He searched for hours; in every room, in the chilly barns where the horses stirred with unrest, within each fields deadened by the cruel winter frosts. _

_Silently, a young Vaughn picked up the house's only phone and called the only person he could think of. _

_Vaughn numbly padded over to the fridge and pulled out a container of home grown oats. Using a stool his father had built, he turned their old oven on. Mixing the oats in with milk, he poured the concoction into a pot, and waited for it to boil. An incessant bubbling noise was the only thing to mar the absolute quiet of the house. It was a familiar routine, mastered through practice._

_He knew when it was ready by the scent that wafted across the room; his nose was long accustomed to it. Turning off the oven, he poured the porridge into a bowl and clambered into one of the too-tall wooden chairs at the table. _

_By the time he finished, the front door had slammed open. Pushing the bowl away, Vaughn listened as his Aunt Mirabelle ran towards him, and scooped him up in a hug. She was crying, big, fat tears falling down her plump face. _

"_You poor thing," she sobbed, ruffling his messy silver hair. "Don't you worry, sweetheart. Just…don't you worry. You'll come home with me, and we'll figure everything out. Okay?" _

_Vaughn nodded, and watched the only home he had ever known disappear behind him as he was buckled into his aunt's crop gathering truck, the only mean of transportation she had. Endless roads crossed his vision as they sped away; rows upon rows of meaningless gray._

"They never found them," Vaughn mumbled, his fingers tightening into a fist around Chelsea's waist. She gently uncurled them, and put her own hand in his as a replacement. "At least, not until they were found dead a few years later. Trapped in an apartment fire, according to the medical reports. "

"Will you tell me more about your Aunt Mirabelle?" Chelsea breathed when it went quiet. The sun was setting before their eyes, which meant they had to be heading back soon as a part of their unspoken rule. She wished more than anything that this moment could be paused, if not for her, than for Vaughn; she didn't want him to go home alone, to where terrible thoughts could openly fester without anyone there with him. She could stay with him…

To Chelsea's surprise, Vaughn shook off her arm, and got to his feet steadily.

"Another time," he said, rubbing his neck slowly. "It's late. And I'm not going to have you walk back to your apartment alone."

Sighing quietly, Chelsea picked up the half-eaten basket of food, and took Vaughn's offered hand. A dull ache developed in her chest as she felt it tremble, just barely. An involuntary admission of weakness, the only outward sign he would ever display to show inner turmoil.

As Vaughn had called it all those months ago, Chelsea began to feel a little world sick.

Hand in hand, they coasted down the sandy plain of beach, staring up through the infinite stars and cloudless sky. They eventually came to the borders of the city, where they continued onward until they reached the very beginning once more, the unwelcomed beginning that neither wanted to see.

**0o0o0o0o**


	7. Chapter 7

**0o0o0o0o**

A squealing, rosy-cheeked Chelsea pounded on the back of her captor's torso, bobbing up and down as he carried her. Despite her protests to be let go of, her constant waves of laughter revealed otherwise.

Vaughn himself couldn't help but to laugh a little at her reaction; the occasional deep, rumbling chuckle escaped his own chest.

"And you didn't believe me when I said I'd carry you here if I had to," he commented smugly, peering back at the girl thrown over his shoulders. Supporting her with one arm, he fished for his apartment keys in his pocket with the other.

"You are the biggest _jerk_" she giggled, "I have ever had the misfortune of meeting."

"Is that so?" Vaughn growled playfully, dipping her down further off his shoulder. She shrieked and laughed even harder, attracting the attention of one of the passersby. The man, whom lived in Vaughn's apartment complex and was vaguely familiar, gave him a sly wink before walking off.

"Well, there's one up side to this carrying arrangement," Chelsea piped up brightly from behind.

"And what's that?" Vaughn asked, feeling unusually giddy.

"I get an excellent view of your butt," she said in a sickly sweet voice, before unexpectedly smacking his rear end. Undoubtedly surprised, Vaughn swore and let out a choked laugh before tugging her around the thighs. She shook in laughter, a sound that sent shivers down Vaughn's spine.

"I hope you haven't forgotten that your _own_ rear end is within reaching distance as well," he said, raising his eyebrows as an exclaimed "'Hey!" made its way to his ears.

Chuckling quietly, Vaughn jammed his key into the apartment door as they approached it, listening absently to Chelsea as she babbled away in that endless way of hers.

"Welcome to the bedlam," Vaughn muttered without humor as they walked inside. Seeing everything from upside, Chelsea giggled quietly.

"It's really not as bad as you made it out to be," she said, peering around. Her face was growing red from the rush of blood, a tinting Vaughn reluctantly found irresistible on her. "And at least it has air conditioning, right?"

This was true. A vent loyally breathed cold air into the room from the far right corner, making the day's heat that much more bearable.

Setting Chelsea down carefully on her feet, he observed her sway gently as she regained her equilibrium. She was wearing a flowing yellow sundress that flowed around her like layers of sunshine, giving her skin a sun kissed glow that Vaughn couldn't help but have already noticed. She glided across the room on her toes, occasionally pausing and leaning forward to peer any something inquisitively.

"What are you doing?" Vaughn asked, as she paused at the kitchen window he knew only too well. Peeling back the worn curtains, she stared out the window, her face hidden.

"Only observing," she shrugged with nonchalance. "This place isn't bad at all. It's obvious you live here, I mean."

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked, piqued. Walking up behind his mysterious girl that couldn't rightfully be called his, he encircled her waist with his arms. She returned the gesture, grasping his arms with her dexterous hands.

"The places people live often tell a lot about their character," Chelsea explained patiently.

"Which means, I'm dull, boring, and average?" Vaughn guessed.

"No, no," she denied, shaking her head. "That's not how I see it."

Turning into him, Chelsea ducked underneath Vaughn's shoulder and took his hand, dragging him across into the middle of the complex.

"It's like…everything here is a staple. Necessary, important. Straight to the point. I dunno…it's kind of hard to explain. There's nothing gilded here, nothing sugar-coated. Everything is how it seems. That's how I feel it is with you, Vaughn. I trust you. You don't…seem the type to lie about something to make it seem okay. When you say something, you're honest about it. It's something I really admire…I think I've gotten off topic…"

She blushed as the words faded away, looking back in the direction of the window. "Sorry. I didn't really mean to say all that…It just came rushing out."

"No," Vaughn said gruffly, before clearing his throat. "Don't be sorry. I like when you say things like that. I'm… always getting surprised when I'm around you."

Chelsea cocked her head to the side, and smiled. Then she was suddenly all over Vaughn, arms twisting around his neck and forehead touching his. He wondered, as his heart sputtered and spun in excitement, if she had any idea of the effect she could have on him. From her actions, it seemed as if so. As usual, the thought that someone could have that type of power over him sent the hairs on the back of Vaughn's neck standing up.

"Do you have any idea," he grunted, as he lifted her off the ground and into his arms, "what you do to me?"

She smiled, curled her legs around his waist, and kissed him. They staggered into the wall behind them, using it as a support.

Breaking away, Chelsea stared him dead on in the eye, freezing him in the position he stood. He might not have been alive; his breathing hitched, and his heartbeat shuddered to a stop.

"It scares me, this…all of this," she whispered, her fingers moving along his jaw carefully. Her words fell away once more, and she was silent, searching for the answer in his face.

At that moment, a flood of relief crashed over Vaughn, and he felt oddly light. He wanted more than anything to tell her, to admit it, that he felt the same way. That this fear was not privy to only her; it infected him just as much, like a horrid disease. They weren't alone in this.

"Me too," Vaughn mumbled into her hands, feeling her soft skin against his lips.

Chelsea's eyes blazed with those rare, exquisite flames before she kissed him again, harder than before. Fingers trailing up his face, almost cutting into him. His hands roamed at her sides, pulling her to him in a vice-like grip. Blood pumped through their bodies, shooting arrows of warmth down every extremity. A feeling of insanity began in their stomachs, radiating out in every direction. Any perception of control broke, allowing emotion after emotion to flow everywhere. A breathy gasp escaped from the base of her throat, and Vaughn smiled.

It was the highest form of bliss.

**0o0o0o0o**

Chelsea blinked open her eyes sleepily, before squinting them shut again with a groan. The sun was already shining mercilessly, despite the early hour of the morning. Burrowing deeper into the bed sheets, she yawned and stretched, arching her back. For a few careless seconds, Chelsea simply lay in bed, oblivious.

As the sleepiness faded away, her eyes widened considerably. Sitting up, Chelsea stared at the room. This certainly wasn't her own bedroom. She looked down at the bed, and caressed the dark sheets. These weren't hers, either.

She looked down at herself, and sighed in relief. The gnawing sense of dread disappeared as quickly as it had manifested. She was still clothed in her sundress from the previous day, despite it being wrinkled from her sleeping in it.

Slowly, Chelsea stepped off the bed, barely noticing the indentation that was proof that another person had slept there. The same feeling of dread replaced her alleviation as the memories of last night resurfaced. She uttered a soft groan as her face fell into her hands.

As far as she could remember, they hadn't gone _that_ far. But that didn't change the fact that she had slept here, evidently in the same bed as Vaughn, and he was nowhere to be seen.

Padding across the room, Chelsea ventured into the hallway. She paused at a disheveled looking mirror hanging at the wall, and frowned. Undoubtedly, she was the unwilling victim of little sleep. Tangles of waves and curls hung around her shoulders, and purple bruises clung below her eyes. Chelsea sighed, and moved on.

She stopped behind the wall that separated the living room and kitchen of Vaughn's apartment, hesitant. Taking a deep breath, Chelsea smothered the hope that he would still be here, and not at work. If she got her hopes up…

Shaking her head, Chelsea ventured into the kitchen silently, her bare feet soundless in their movements.

"Coffee?" a seemingly disembodied voice asked.

Letting out a small yelp, Chelsea spun on her heels in the direction the voice came from, only to see a smirking Vaughn raising his eyebrows at her quizzically.

"Goddess, Vaughn," she muttered, laughing a little. Scratching the back of her neck, she blushed a fierce red color, only causing Vaughn's smirk to deepen. "I didn't know you were…there."

"I see that," he murmured, the slightest hint of amusement evident in his tone. "How do you like your coffee?"

"I don't ever remember saying that I liked coffee," Chelsea shot back as a desperate attempt to regain some face.

"Yet, you work at a coffee shop," Vaughn pondered out loud, pouring a mug of straight black for himself.

"Aw, shut up, you," Chelsea snapped, but smiled nonetheless, feeling much more at ease. She collapsed in one of the chairs for the table, and sighed. Of course he hadn't abandoned her here. She didn't know what she had been thinking.

That throaty, infuriatingly charming chuckle from her left was all she had to hear to know that Vaughn was getting the biggest kick from her behavior.

"Milk, by the way," she grumbled, sending a glare in his general direction. "In the coffee."

"Already had it done," Vaughn said, before plopping down in the chair opposite of her with two steaming mugs. He slid one in her direction, which she took a swig of gratefully.

It wasn't until she had finished half the mug that Chelsea noticed Vaughn watching her. When their eyes met, he stirred a bit, like he suddenly awoke from a deep sleep.

"The Fireworks Festival is tonight."

Comprehension dawned on Chelsea, with a barely audible "ohhh". She nodded thoughtfully. So he was still here because it was a holiday…Would he have still deserted her, had it been any other day?

"I was wondering why you weren't at work. What time's it at, this festival? Funny, how it's like a big holiday when it's only fireworks- "

"Chelsea."

Turning her attention back on him, Chelsea smiled. "Yeah?"

"Do you want to go together? To the Fireworks Festival?"

She blinked, and raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? Of course we're going _together_. What did you expect, that I'd go with someone else?"

Vaughn visibly relaxed, and tipped his hat slightly downward before slumping back in his chair, rigid posture forgotten.

"You're silly," Chelsea cooed, leaning across the table towards him. "Were you actually nervous about asking me?"

"I…I…no," Vaughn replied, his ears turning red the more he floundered. "I just…wanted to make sure."

"Ohhh, I see," Chelsea drawled, teasingly mocking Vaughn's slight accent. "Well, now that you're sure. What time does it start?"

"Six," he said gruffly, recovering from his embarrassment.

"Sounds good!" Chelsea beamed happily. "Where should we meet? As much as I'd love to stay here all day, Levitt is probably dying to be let out on a potty break. And I'm not terribly pleased about the idea of wearing day-old clothes to the festival. Unless you have questionable habits I should know about…I'm assuming you don't have clothes that would be appropriate for me to wear."

A boyish smile broke out across Vaughn's face, and he laughed. Suffusion suddenly colored Chelsea's face, and she almost swooned on the spot, though she would never admit that to anyone out loud.

"Sorry, I don't," Vaughn chuckled. "I'll pick you up at your apartment at quarter to six?"

"O-okay…" Chelsea mumbled, still slightly intoxicated by the presence of a sudden handsomeness about Vaughn. It wasn't that he was rarely handsome; it was the precise opposite, in fact. And she had seen him smile before; what was so special about it today?

Vaughn seemed not to realize his impact; as Chelsea stumbled over her sandals, pulling them on her feet, he cocked his head to the side and gave her a look of concern, only worsening the situation.

"You okay?" he asked, puzzled by her sudden clumsiness.

"Fine! I'm fine!" Chelsea managed, nearly running to his front door. Forcing it open, she dared look at him once more before departing.

"Six, then?" she confirmed with a jerky smile.

"Six," he verified. With a parting grin, Vaughn tipped his Stetson at her. "See you then."

"Bye," Chelsea breathed, before nearly slamming the door. Once it was closed, she took off down the street that would bring her back home. After four blocks had passed, she finally slowed down, breathing hard. Whether it was because of the already balmy heat of the day, she was unsure.

Leaning against a fence bordering an old law firm, Chelsea took a deep breath. What in the world was wrong with her? She had never been one to go doe-eyed and faint over something as shallow as a smile from a good-looking man. In fact, she had often prided herself in being the most sensible and rational among her old group of girlfriends. She was the one who stood to the side, scoffing and rolling her eyes as her friends drooled and sighed over the hunky football star with no brain.

So what exactly had come over her, back there_? _A mere flash of charming male looks, and she was suddenly clumsy, blundering and inarticulate.

Perhaps, rather than gaining good sense as she aged, Chelsea was the opposite; maybe she was losing it, making up for those adolescent days she never fawned over the popular boy in school.

_Maybe,_ a whisper trickled through her mind, _maybe it's just Vaughn who's doing this to you._

A reluctant smile tickled at the edges of Chelsea's mouth, and although no one was around, Chelsea bent over and hid her face in her hands, a girlish giggle escaping her tightly pressed lips.

How silly, the idea that a full grown man could make a twenty-three year old woman feel so faint and nervous, as though they were back in high school and he had just asked her to prom.

Chelsea shook her head and sighed, before straightening up and continuing on her way home at a slower pace.

As much as she could deny it, she would be lying if she said it wasn't one of the most wonderful feelings in the world. She would be lying to say that the butterflies in her stomach and the pricks of electricity that traveled across her body when she suddenly thought of him now didn't make her feel as though she were flying, soaring impossibly high across the cloudless sky.

**0o0o0o0o**

The park was teeming with people, all waiting in anticipation for the start of the fireworks that would light up the sky with the brightest of colors. Being a festival originally created for couples, there was a somewhat suffocating air of intimacy as Chelsea and Vaughn approached the entrance. Pausing, Vaughn frowned slightly as they both searched for an open spot. Intertwined bodies were sprinkled in every open space of grass, and a low murmuring sound with the occasional laugh resounded from the crowd.

"Shoulda' got here earlier," Vaughn said with the slightest bit of regret. "Knew it was gonna be crowded."

"Hmm…" said Chelsea distractedly, as her blue eyes flitted across the hopelessly crowded land. "We could go…No wait, there's a tree there…How about behind that guy with the hat? Wait, there's someone there too-"

"Hey, lady! Get out of the damn way, will you? You're blocking the view!" a voice screamed from a few feet away, shocking Chelsea into silence. She identified the speaker as a pale man with a rather retro looking mullet, an angry expression marring his face. A willowy, timid looking girl with long brown hair sitting next to him looked just as shocked at his outburst, and tried to calm him down.

"Shh, Marlin, it's okay. The fireworks haven't begun yet," her soft voice said.

"No, it's not okay! Beggars can't be choosers, Celia. Now get out of our way!"

Her shock wearing away, Chelsea muttered an apologetic "sorry" at the same time Vaughn snarled, "Screw off, asshole!"

By this time, their little spectacle had drawn the attention of several more people, some of who were agreeing with this Marlin person. Chelsea unsuccessfully attempted to drag Vaughn out of the park before the confrontation became worse.

"Right back atcha', buddy! Take your girl and get out of here so the rest of us can have a decent night, why don't you? This place isn't welcome to pricks!" the man boomed at Vaughn, whose body Chelsea could feel turn rigid.

"Then I guess you'd better leave. The sooner the better."

"Vaughn," she whispered, desperately wanting to escape the probing eyes of the festival attendees and the low calls that signified the anticipation of a fight. "Please, let's just go."

His body remained as rigid as ever for a few more seconds, before he visibly sagged, the anger deflating from him at her plead.

Without another word, Vaughn pulled Chelsea out of the park, a black cloud practically visible over his silver head.

"Good riddance!" Marlin's voice called antagonistically at their backs.

"I know a better place we can go," he growled, his eyes never leaving the road in front of him.

Speechless, Chelsea simply let him bring her wherever this place was, replaying what had just happened back in her head again.

After several blocks and street signs passed, Chelsea immediately recognized where he was bringing her; within seconds, the beach they had visited earlier in the summer filled her vision. It was a different place at night: the stars reflected down at them brightly, more visible than from the city. It was nearly silent, abandoned by all that were gathered down at their park.

Vaughn finally slowed down his pace, and Chelsea noticed he was no longer trembling with anger or as rigid. They sat down in the sand, just out of reach of the frothy white waves that always pushed and pulled, regardless of what went on around them.

After a few minutes of nothing but the sound of crashing waves, the fireworks finally began to erupt into the sky. Reds, blues, greens, and yellows speckled their vision, blending together to make colors Chelsea wasn't even aware existed.

"You can see the fireworks better here, anyway," Vaughn finally said, his gaze locked on the keening explosions. Chelsea took his hand; it was cold as stone.

"You didn't have to do that, back there," Chelsea began, watching as the planes and valleys of his face were lit green, then red. He still didn't look at her, but his long fingers twitched within hers.

"He shouldn't have talked to you like that," Vaughn countered, frowning. "I wasn't just going to sit back and watch."

The multiple-firework portion of the show was beginning now; bursts of red, white, and blue streamed into the sky, leaving behind trails of cool fire.

"Just another jerk in the city…He wasn't worth it."

It was like a flame had ignited inside Vaughn when she said that; he whipped towards her, a vicious glare disfiguring his features. "You'd have rather me have just stood there and let him insult you? "

"N-"

"Maybe that's what I _should_ have done-"

"_No,_ Vaughn!" Chelsea shouted, resorting to grabbing his broad shoulders to make him listen. An expression of shock and reproach crossed his face, and he was silent.

"That isn't what I meant. I'm thankful for what you did. Thankful that you stood up to him, because I certainly wouldn't have stood up for myself. You were great. I just meant that…you're so much better than him; he wasn't worth your time. That's all."

Her arms dropped from his shoulders then, and fell to her sides. She couldn't look away from him; an unknown force attracted their gazes together like magnets. His eyes, vibrant and smoldering with anger just seconds before, burned out, leaving behind hardened, dead stones.

Vaughn leaned forward and their lips met, melding together perfectly, inexorably changing the foundations of the beach around them.

They broke apart, halting the advance. He turned back to the sky, and Chelsea did the same. Her head found its way to his shoulder, like it always seemed to do, and no more words were passed between them.

Blue and purple flows of light flowed steadily up through the sky, embracing and interweaving among each other until they were but one vein of color, inseparable until they disappeared among the stars that were always reaching for them.

**0o0o0o0o**


	8. Chapter 8

**0o0o0o0o**

The crackling music that cranked from his radio fell soundless on Vaughn's ears. He was too far gone, submerged in indecision, for the grating noise to register in his mind. His arms lay useless on the table, hands halfway clenched into a fist. One leg bounced restlessly, a product of the nervous energy stirring restlessly in him.

Staring at the disused telephone on his kitchen table, he sat stock-still as though he were waiting for a call. Yet, this call would never come, because there was no one whom would call Apartment 248's number.

Vaughn eyed the dingy, crumpled piece of paper that lay by the phone, gathering dust. A hurried scrawl of numbers stared back at him knowingly. A hand slid across the table and touched the cord of the phone. Detaching the phone from its holder with a single, fluid movement, he picked it up and held it to his ear.

A robotic beeping jarred his eardrum, but he continued holding the device. After a few seconds, he placed it back in its holder, feeling incredibly foolish.

"What the hell are you afraid of," Vaughn snarled at nothing, suddenly fuming. His hands turned angry, into destructive tools as he slashed across the table, sending the phone soaring off the table and into the wall.

He listened to the woman operator's automatic voice warble away in silence, his hand clenched back into a tight fist once more. He raised it to his head, and closed his eyes slowly.

Vaughn knew he needed to do this. It had been bothering him since the winter holidays, eating away at his resolve.

Minutes passed before he opened his eyes again. Picking up the abused phone and replacing it on the table, he stepped out of his house without another glance back.

**0o0o0o0o**

The last of the evening's sun glittered down on the faces of Vaughn and Chelsea, turning their skin from flushed and sweaty. Vaughn pulled awkwardly at his shirt, becoming more physically and mentally uncomfortable by the second.

"I wanted to ask you something," he managed to say, breaking the loose silence between man and woman. He couldn't quite look at her, so he watched as a young boy fed the ducks that gathered so often in the park's pond. A large mallard pecked up the crumbs at his feet, making him laugh in delight.

"Mmm?"

Vaughn knew exactly what he wanted to ask, but the words seemed to lodge in his throat like a solid lump. He swallowed hard, and tried again.

"I'm going to contact my aunt and cousin."

He could feel Chelsea's attention skyrocket beside him, like it was tangible. She leaned forward on their bench, trying to see his face as he spoke.

"I wanted to ask if you'll stay with me while I do it."

Chelsea didn't move closer to him, or even try to touch him. For this, Vaughn was relieved; he wasn't sure he could have handled any intimacy at that moment. He would always require a certain distance in certain aspects of his life; that would never change.

"When?" she asked, watching him with little change in her expression.

He didn't say anything. If he did not do it today, he knew he would not do it ever.

"Today."

"Okay. Do you want to do it now?" Chelsea asked placidly, gently pulling on his fingers. He stood from the bench, nodding, and allowed himself to be taken to his own apartment.

As they reached Vaughn's living place and stepped inside in the dark complex, the static of the radio greeted them like old friends. As smooth as ever, Chelsea maneuvered herself so that Vaughn was leading her now. He brought her to the table and heedlessly pulled out one of the chairs for her to sit down on, before doing so himself.

Chelsea caught his empty hand in between her own as they became quiet, creating a capsule of warmth. They remained like this, needing no words in their distinctive language, as Vaughn pressed back the folded paper for the first time. Pounding the numbers into the keypad, he held the phone up to his ear as the droning ringing began.

A stiflingly cold sensation seemed to drip through his veins as Chelsea hand squeezed his. Every thought and reason he had thought of from hours before crashed back down on him without warning, battering the inside of his skull with a ridiculous fear.

He knew what it was he feared in making this call. The change that could happen in eight, long years. The possibilities were endless; he himself had proved this theory wholesomely true. What if they didn't want to speak to him? Have anything to do with him? Of course he wouldn't blame them. He couldn't.

He had gone in the night, leaving behind a house full of useless material items and the only two people in the world that had been willing to stay by him. Not even a note explaining his departure. It had been a repeat of his parents' disappearance those eighteen years ago. A thing he had sworn never to do, never to mimic. And then he had gone and done it anyway.

A wave of sour self-loathing burned at the base of Vaughn's throat as the rings continued. He was readying his reaction for when the answering machine hit when a barely audible _click_ sounded.

"_Hello?" _an airy, feminine voice asked. Vaughn's stomach dropped as he recognized the voice almost immediately. It was impossible for him not to after all those years of hearing it every day.

"Julia?" he asked, his voice coming out wrong. The word was pried from his throat, and sounded strangled.

"_Wh…Who's this?" _she asked, daunted by the fact that a nameless stranger seemed to know her name.

"It's…It's me. Vaughn," he replied, unable to look anywhere but Chelsea's hopeful face, her blazing eyes.

"_Vaughn?" _her voice seemed to tremble precariously. _"Vaughn! Is it really you?"_ she cried, disbelief igniting into blind hope.

"Yes," he said, feeling a childlike smile appear on his face. "Yes, it's really me."

Chelsea grinned back at him, reading his body language correctly as to mean something good had happened. Her eyes danced with anticipation, willing Vaughn to keep talking.

"_Goddess, Vaughn! I can't believe…After all these years…Oh, I can't wait to tell Elliot!" _she squealed joyfully, causing Vaughn to laugh unexpectedly.

"You're still with that guy?" he asked teasingly, mind soaring as he heard a familiar huff on the opposite end of the line, followed by defensive comments regarding the bashful, albeit good-hearted boy she had fallen for back in their high school years.

"If he makes you happy," Vaughn replied again, a surge of affection for this sister-like figure warming his blood. "That's okay with me."

"_This is so surreal,"_ Julia said, her tone dropping to something softer. _"I've missed you, Vaughn. I really have."_

"I know…Me too," he said gruffly. "I should have called sooner. Years ago."

"_Hey, you know what? It doesn't matter now. All that matters is that…you called. I was beginning to doubt that I'd ever talk to you again."_

"I'm sorry," he murmured, piling eight years worth of apologies into those two words. His body seemed to exhale in content as the words left his mouth, taking with them a smothering weight. He inhaled deeply, a new lightness in his chest allowing him to do so.

"_No, no…don't be. The point is, you proved me wrong. Onto more interesting things…What have you been up to? How's life? Gosh, we have so much to catch up on!" _

A glimpse of the Julia he had known before all of this showed itself in her tone, and Vaughn's mouth twitched in amusement. "I've been alright. Living in the city now. Working with animals, like you always said I would."

"_Aw, I knew it! You were always so good with our animals on the farm. I wouldn't have expected you to be living in the city, though."_

Across from him, Chelsea was making wild gesticulations at him. _Let me talk to her_, she mouthed, giving him hopeful eyes.

"Ah…Julia? I have a …friend here with me," he began, pausing when Chelsea sent him a withering look at his use of the word "friend". "She'd like to talk to you."

"She? _Oh, Vaughn! Let me speak to her, let me speak to her! This is amazing, you've finally got a girlfriend? Give her the phone! I hope she's better conversation than you are." _

"She's not my-"he began awkwardly, before the phone was lightly plucked from his hands. The next thing he knew, Vaughn was watching Chelsea babble away on the phone to Julia, making gestures and facial expressions as though Julia could see them herself. They would get along quite well, he had a feeling.

It was as he watched Chelsea animatedly hold the conversation that he realized he hadn't talked to his aunt Mirabelle yet. Like Julia was the closest thing to a sister he had, Mirabelle was, if not by blood, his mother in practicality. He couldn't fathom a reason why Julia wouldn't have informed Mirabelle of his call.

The same, distinctly cold feeling from before returned as Vaughn's mind pieced together the most terrible of ideas. He quietly asked for the phone back, to which Chelsea obliged, astutely noticing the subtle change in his demeanor.

"Julia?" he asked guardedly. "Where is Mirabelle?"

At that moment, everything seemed to freeze. He could have sworn the temperature felt as though it dropped several degrees, and sound ceased to exist other than what he heard on the other side of the phone line. A broken hitch of breath was all that reached his ears, was all that caused everything to shatter into a million pieces because he knew what was coming now. He _knew._

"Julia."

"_Vaughn…"_

"Let me talk to her, Julia. Please."

Chelsea's hand snaked into his once more, as soundless as everything else. She squeezed his fingers, hard enough to cause pain, but he was beyond feeling that now, too.

"_Oh, Vaughn…I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry_," she said, beginning to lightly weep. _"I…I didn't want…To tell you. I shouldn't have waited, I shouldn't have but…I was so happy, and you seemed happy…I'm sorry! Sometimes I manage to forget about it for a while, and you called, and…" _

Her words became unintelligible, smothered in her cries. She hadn't said the words, not the words he was looking for. But she didn't have to, because he already knew. Vaughn wanted to hang up, and never call again. Maybe he would forget it ever happened.

"Julia."

"_I'm sorry, Vaughn. I'm so sorry. She's dead. I should have told you at the beginning, but I just couldn't. She's gone." _

A soft, male voice came into hearing distance of the phone, murmuring something to Julia. She kindly told him no, her shuddering breath turning to a hiccup.

"_No, I can tell him. It's okay, Elliot, I'm fine,"_ she finally said. Clearing her throat loudly, Julia went on.

"_Vaughn? Are you still there?" _she asked, a pleading tone evident in her voice.

Vaughn would not, did not respond with words. He was unsure what would come out of his mouth if he tried, or if he'd be able to stop it. Instead, he made a non-committal sound, letting her know he was still there.

"_A drunk driver, that's what it was. We were on our way back from the grocery store. I was with her, but I…I got out okay. I don't know why it was me. There wasn't anything anyone could have done. I-it was…they told me I couldn't have done anything to help her. By the time the ambulance got to the hospital, she was already g-gone beyond repair. I held her hand, the last few moments. No one expected it." _

Something between a cough and a sob came from the phone speakers. A blade stealthily crept in between Vaughn's ribs, and gave a sharp twist.

"When?" he asked evenly, switching into autopilot mode.

"_About a year ago. I'm living with Elliot now, on this nice little Island. His family's been a lot of help to us. They helped plan the…funeral. Vaughn…she was like your mother too, wasn't she? I'm so sorry."_

He could hear the tears in her voice.

"You already said that," he snapped, staring out across the room at nothing. Chelsea continued to hold his hand, despite the loss of feeling in her fingers.

"_I know. But I can't stop saying it."_

"Julia, I've got to go," Vaughn snarled, swallowing thickly. "I'm glad you told me. I'll call again soon."

"_No, wait, Vaughn," she gasped. "Don't go yet-" _

"Bye, Julia," he said slowly, and carefully hung up the phone. Evading Chelsea's gaze, he cleared his throat in hopes of his voice returning to normal, but to no avail.

"She's gone. Mirabelle, my aunt," he said huskily. "She died a year ago."

"Oh, Vaughn," Chelsea whispered, her eyes widening and locking onto his face. "I-"

"Don't you say it," he growled menacingly. "Don't you say you're sorry."

"That's not what I was going to say," she said, her eyes glazing over. "I was going to say that I'm…I'm not going to leave you tonight. Not alone. Unless you ask me to leave."

For a few moments, he was silent, counting the continual beats of Chelsea's pulse in her wrist.

"No," he grated out. "I won't ask you to leave."

"Okay," Chelsea said thickly. "Okay. It'll be okay, somehow. We'll get through this, and I'm not going to leave you until you're okay."

"I'm okay," Vaughn said, who was suddenly so, so tired. He slowly stood up, looking towards the bedroom. "I just want to go to bed. Sleep it off."

The way she looked up at him nearly ruined everything, nearly sent him to his knees. But Chelsea didn't try to stop him when he brushed past her gently, the need to escape growing by the instant.

Once in his bedroom, Vaughn mechanically took off his boots, belt, and hat. Lowering himself onto his stiff bed, he stared up at the ceiling, or rather the sky that lay above it. The stars he knew to be out there began to burn their way through the plaster as Vaughn began the process of storing his grief in the metaphorical file drawer in the back of his mind. Locked away, not to be experienced until it was safe for him to pull out the key. He began to assemble himself in stone, a defense against the ruthless feeling that would strip him off his power.

He could not completely sever this emotion and its connection to his mind, but by building walls and barriers around it, it would become less dangerous. He would have the ultimate control. Vaughn forced himself to believe this, as a new weight settled down on his chest; a replacement for the one he had just lost.

It had happened too fast; one moment, he was laughing with Julia, finally feeling as though he had done something right. That feeling had gone in what seemed like seconds, slashed up and left to die.

He had never said a goodbye.

Stowed away in his head, assembling his armies of defense, Vaughn barely noticed Chelsea climb onto the bed beside him. Curling into him, his arm automatically shifted so that it cradled her to his chest. They lay soundlessly, each unwilling to speak out loud in case the other had managed to grasp on to the smallest amount of sleep. With sleep would come, if one was lucky, that desired break from the world that made even the most honorable sick to their stomachs.

When her tears came, Vaughn brushed them away with his thumb, a wordless caress that said more than words ever could. Her fingers curled around his, not letting him take his hand away.

Through a window, they watched the sun break through their city, with its meaningless gray buildings and stained black roads. Nothing about it seemed as thrilling or interesting as it once had. They had become too sick to see much else than a lifeless skeleton in the place of their home that had stood there yesterday.

**0o0o0o0o**

**Author's Note: This was quite difficult to write…probably the most difficult chapter yet. I've never quite been good at the whole "grief" thing with my characters. Anyways, for that reason, I'd especially appreciate reviews on what I did right/wrong and what you thought. Hopefully this chapter didn't depress anyone. Sadness aside, I hope all of you Americans are having a lovely Thanksgiving, and be sure to think about what you're thankful for. You never know what could happen. **


	9. Chapter 9

**0o0o0o0o**

Two bodies, curled amongst each other, silently remained in place as the sun continued to rise in the sky, already beginning its daily summertime cooking of the brittle, colorless strip of superstructures outside the window. Eventually, one succumbed to the seductive calling of sleep, only able to maintain his wordless vigil for so long.

Upon this occurrence, the other figure noiselessly slipped out of the cozy embrace, and slinked towards her destination: the kitchen phone. Hushing her movements as to not disturb Vaughn's already light slumber, Chelsea punched in numbers and waited. On the fourth ring, a sweet, aged voice answered; _"Flowerbud City's Humane Society. This is Ellen speaking, how may I help you?"_

"Hello. I'm calling to inform whoever is in charge that Vaughn Vaults is going to be out of work today…"

"_And who, may I ask, is speaking? And under what circumstances is Mr. Vaults' absence?"_

"Oh, this is his… girlfriend, Chelsea Lambent*. And you know Vaughn, always overworking himself. I'm afraid he's… really come down with something this time…Of course, he still wanted to go into work, but I couldn't possibly let him. Don't want to infect the coworkers, after all."

The lie slipped so easily from her mouth,

The voice on the opposite end of the line laughed, a rusty, croaking sound. _"His supervisor will be noted of this absence. It's probably a good thing Mr. Vaults' is ill; according to his filed information, none of his vacation time has been used up yet. We could be charged if he doesn't use it, you know. You have a nice rest of your day, Ms. Lambent. And take care of that Vaughn boy, too…I have to admit, I do have a soft spot for that boy. Very serious, hard-working, much like my late cousin, Blue. I remember your name being brought up by him before, now that I think about it. He must like you a lot. Oh, there I go again, chatting about everything from the moon to the stars…"_

Startled, Chelsea giggled, a mixture of surprise affection warming her cheeks. "Thank you, Ellen. I'll be sure to let Vaughn know about the vacationing time. You have a wonderful day, as well."

She hung up the phone quietly, thoughts spinning from the odd, if not charming, conversation with the stranger who went by the name of Ellen. With a calculating glance towards the cooking area of the kitchen, Chelsea debated whether or not she should begin breakfast now or later. As a deep yawn overcame her, she put off making breakfast and instead padded back into Vaughn's bedroom, where he was still asleep. Burrowing underneath the covers, she crawled back into the still vacant space between Vaughn and settled down to finally sleep.

**0o0o0o0o**

It was drawing close to the afternoon hours when Vaughn awoke, bleary and slightly disoriented with the summer sun shining in his eyes. Groaning, he shifted away from the window. With no appeal remaining for the life that awaited him outside, Vaughn took in the wonder beside him instead. How could anyone, himself of all people, ever have thought this girl was of the typical, average being everything about her?

That could never be. Not with her. There wasn't anything about her that wasn't unique. It could not be duplicated, the special sort of light that seemed to ignite from deep down inside her, illuminating everything around her in golden light. Even he had found himself victim to it before.

_But even she could not shine enough light all the time. Not for this place,_ Vaughn found himself thinking, as the memories from the previous day came rushing back to him. As though she had realized her place in his thoughts, Chelsea stirred in his arms, before her eyelids began to flutter sleepily. Opening them fully, she blearily looked up at him, a tiny smile breaking out as she met his eyes.

"What a nice way to wake up," she yawned, stretching like a cat and narrowly missing Vaughn's face in the process. A languid smile broke across his face, the best he could give at that given moment.

Finished stretching, Chelsea lay sprawled across the mattress, peeking out at Vaughn from underneath her arm.

"Aren't we a little old for playing peek-a-boo?" Vaughn asked her, his voice deep and rough from misuse. Nonetheless, he found himself humbled by her vulnerable display, and lay so that he was at eye level with her. She watched him carefully, not answering him directly as she continued to peek at him shyly.

"I prefer to call it staying young at heart," she murmured, gaining a thoughtful countenance. "Being an adult is overrated."

Vaughn chuckled lowly, before rolling onto his back and staring up at the blank ceiling. No words passed between them for a long time; Vaughn was beginning to believe she had fallen back asleep when the awful mental reminder that he had work alarmed in his head.

Shooting upward, he leaped off the bed in a sudden burst of manic energy, cursing violently as rushed to the cabinet on the opposite end of his room. He began wildly pulling out layer after layer of clothing, searching for appropriate work attire.

Startled by the rapid movement, Chelsea fumbled into a sitting position, watching with wide, puzzled eyes as Vaughn destroyed any order his bedroom may have had prior to his frenzy.

"What are you _doing?_" she yelled over the noise he was making, gazing around the room sadly at the clothes that were no longer neatly folded and arranged.

"I'm going to be late to work!" he bellowed back, temporarily stopping in his search to inspect a wrinkled pair of black jeans.

"Vaughn…"

"Goddess knows no one else can handle the job on their own…" he mumbled distractedly, pulling off the black shirt he had fallen asleep in while pawing through a heap of already discarded clothing.

"Vaughn," Chelsea repeated, trying not to ogle as he finally turned toward her, giving her quite a nice view of his upper body. "It's taken care of. I called you in sick for work."

Immediately, Vaughn froze in place, as the meaning behind her words sunk in. He looked up at Chelsea, seemingly puzzled.

"What…?"

Chelsea frowned, tilting her head slightly to the left. "Do you really think I was going to let you go in to work today? After yesterday? Besides…your workday is already halfway over."

Vaughn's face contorted strangely at her words, looking like a mix between a scowl and a grimace. He looked to her again, emotions unreadable.

"I've never missed a day of work," he said quietly, reaching up for his hat but realizing it still rested on the bedside table.

"Well that's changing now. Besides…Ellen, I think her name was? Yeah, Ellen said it was past due for you to take vacation time. I'd say this is a great time."

Vaughn slowly rose to his feet, slightly out of balance. "Oh," he simply said, rubbing the back of his neck absently. He hadn't ever skipped a day of work…Other than when it was unnecessary. The best source of distraction he had wasn't available to him. With any other circumstance, the break may be welcome, but Vaughn had been relying on his work to bury away the thoughts that had eaten away at him all throughout the night.

Glancing at Chelsea, he noticed her staring at him in silence. He looked away at once, suddenly angry at the expression of concern that lay openly across her face. His moods were swinging wildly out of control; something unusual, and dangerous, for someone like him.

"Vaughn…?"

"What?" he snapped, recoiling slightly as she stepped toward him. Chelsea noticed this, and resumed her previous position, surprised.

"I just …I wanted to make sure…"

"I'm _fine,_" he assured her, glancing away once more. His searching eyes found the bathroom; an escape, a route that would take him away from the intimacy he just couldn't stand right then.

"O-oh…Right, then. I'm…I'll…Go make breakfast or something. I guess it would be lunch, by now," Chelsea murmured, laughing a bit. She left the bedroom quietly, shooting him one last glance before she left, so meaningful that Vaughn had to look away.

"I'm going to take a shower then," he muttered to no one in particular, walking slowly to the bathroom without another look back.

Once inside, he locked the door firmly, letting out a deep breath as he turned the shower on. With the sound of water hitting the ceramic floor acting as a sort of security blanket, Vaughn leaned against the wall, his face in his hands. As the water's temperature rose, he ran his fingers through his hair, letting out another deep breath.

Vaughn turned to face the mirror, watching as his reflection slowly began to disappear behind the curtain of steam clouding the reflective surface. Strange, alien eyes were all that stared back at him, and Vaughn was almost tempted to check behind him to make sure no one was there. Leaning in closer, he saw a pair of sky blue eyes appear beside his own, with crow's feet and a familiar glimmer Vaughn had seen many times.

He scowled, furious again that his own mind, once deemed a safe place, betrayed him this way. He turned away, undressed, and slipped into the chamber of steam and water that awaited him. He didn't dare to cast another look at the mirror.

"Don't even think about it," Vaughn whispered to himself, unable to see anything but the steam that enveloped his body. "Forget about it now."

The scalding water burned away his façade though, if only for a few minutes, leaving behind something raw and exposed until he rebuilt it. He could only hope these walls he constructed this time would be stronger than before, like a bone healing after a break. Layer after layer, a callous around weakest parts.

He turned the water off, and stepped out of the shower into silence. Redressing, Vaughn could hear Chelsea in the kitchen, singing along to the radio and cooking something on the stove.

Chelsea. The only chink in his armor, the only thing permeable to his self-made barrier. Exiting the bathroom, Vaughn was assaulted by goosebumps from the thought; when had this development happened? Why?

"Did you have a nice shower?" Chelsea asked, smiling at him as Vaughn stood in the doorway of the kitchen. As though she had forgotten the tension behind their last exchange.

Vaughn nodded, sitting down in one of the kitchen's chairs as Chelsea beckoned him to do so.

"Even though it's the afternoon technically…I made breakfast. Brunch, I guess. Hope you don't mind," Chelsea said, sliding a plate of food in front of him smoothly. It was a nicely arranged buffet of eggs, toast, pancakes, and fruits. Coffee and milk were also added to the arrangement, completing the meal.

Vaughn raised his eyebrows at Chelsea, who beamed in reply. "I secretly love cooking like this when I have the chance. Living by yourself, making a huge meal like this wouldn't make much sense."

"So adding one more person _does_ make sense?" Vaughn asked skeptically, picking at his food without much of an appetite.

"Of course it does," Chelsea said, feigning offense at his question. She laughed as he rolled his eyes, before getting down to eat her own food, continuing to talk when the chance arose.

After a period of silence, Vaughn shook himself from his thoughts and asked Chelsea the question that had been mulling around in his head for a good while.

"Why aren't you at work?"

Chelsea didn't pause in her actions, or even look at him. Scraping her fork across a half-eaten pancake, she didn't answer for a few seconds either.

"I didn't want to go today," she finally said, defiance flaring in her brilliant eyes. "Is that okay with you?"

"No," Vaughn said, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. "Not really. Why didn't you want to go in?"

She narrowed her own eyes at him now, taking her place in the stare down. "That's my business."

"Not if you're staying in _my_ house while you skip out on work," Vaughn shot back, the beginnings of irritation stemming in his chest.

Chelsea breathed out heavily, and her expression softened as she looked towards the shuttered window on one of the walls. "Why do you think I'm not at work, Vaughn? Is it really that hard to figure out?"

Vaughn scowled, not liking where the conversation was beginning to wander. "You don't need to skip work to take care of me. I'm perfectly capable of functioning by myself."

"No, I know that," Chelsea moaned, a hand flying to cradle her face. "Believe me, I know that. But don't you remember what I said last night? I'm not leaving until you're okay."

"I'm fine. I told you earlier," Vaughn growled, eyes flaring. "You shouldn't be missing out on a day of paid work for me. I'm not unstable, or-"

" You're completely missing my point! I know all this. I _know_ you wouldn't do anything drastic, I _know_ you'd be able to take care of yourself. Don't you get it? I _want _to be here with you. I don't want to leave you on your own, to have to be alone with…everything. I promised you we'd get through this together."

Vaughn stood up suddenly, pushing the chair over behind him. "Your concern is unneeded," he forced out through gritted teeth. "I'd prefer to be alone."

"Vaughn…" Chelsea begged, suddenly standing close to him, holding him by the arms. "I know. I'm sorry-"

"You already said that yesterday," Vaughn managed, feeling the worst kind of tension building in his chest. He didn't remove her hands from his arms, though, as easy as it would have been to do. Her hands were trembling.

"I'm just trying to help you…What can I do that will help?" Chelsea asked, looking up at him for an answer, something neither of them possessed.

Everything inside him froze then, and Vaughn found himself jerking away from her, staring like she was some kind of unfamiliar, foreign entity.

"Go," he deadpanned. "Leave. Get out of here."

Chelsea stepped back away from him, her eyes shining unnaturally. Vaughn felt like his chest was collapsing inward at the sight, but it was too late for remorse; auto-pilot had taken over, with its purpose to protect himself at all costs.

"No, Vaughn," she moaned, the tears beading at the corners of her eyes. "I'm-"

"I don't want you here!" he yelled, sending the plates on the table flying onto the floor. Chelsea moved out of the way, barely missing a shard of the broken plates. "You wanna know how you can help me? You wanna know? Go! Leave me alone!"

The impact of his words was successful. She flinched as though they were physically painful, before turning and running across the apartment complex, slamming the door behind her. Vaughn continued to stand there, his blood still boiling and his breath rough and uneven, waiting for her to come back in, laughing everything off.

He stood there for nearly half an hour, his limbs frozen to the spot. The broken plates and ruined food lay at his feet, as well as the up-ended chair.

When it struck three o'clock, Vaughn staggered to the front door, ripping it open and nearly removing the hinges from the doorway. He searched for her figure, searched for a familiar person walking to the park, igniting her part of the lifeless city in light.

He sank to his knees, wanting to call her name out to the city but knowing he would get no response. She was long gone, her destination as unknown to him as it had been all those times he had seen her walking outside his window. He was truly alone, just as he had said that he wanted.

What had he done?

**0o0o0o0o**


	10. Chapter 10

0o0o0o0o

**Stumbling down block after block of monotonous city streets, Chelsea moved forward without quite thinking about where she was going. She let her feet guide her towards her destination, somewhere unknown to her muddled conscious mind. **

**The street signs, buildings and faces became more and more unintelligible the farther Chelsea walked, her eyes blurring with tears over and over. A floodgate had been broken, and her emotions flowed out relentlessly with no mercy being given.**

**But she continued to walk, for it was the only thing she could keep doing right then. Person after person passed her, bumping shoulders and bags, pushing and shoving. All sorts of looks met Chelsea's condition; concerned, more for their safety than for her, as though she were just a ticking bomb waiting to explode. Others looked uncomfortable, wanting to be as far as way from something that raw and sensitive. **

**Some simply ignored her, averting their eyes as though that would make her disappear. **

**Before Chelsea could even begin to comprehend where she was, A Day Latte stood before her, friendly and warm. Coming to a stop, Chelsea paused before walking inside to wipe at her eyes, a weak attempt at controlling the emotions that were scalding her like wildfire. **

**The little bell at the top of the door twinkled as she stepped inside, revealing her appearance. She looked up, expecting to see the regular flow of customers and workers chatting idly, expecting to be welcomed by the alluring scent of brewed coffee and freshly baked croissants. What she saw instead provided none of these comforts; not a single customer was present, giving the shop a lonely feeling. Lines of boxes, all different sizes, cluttered up the shop's extra spaces, and there was no trace of the soft background music that often played while she worked.**

"**Hello?" Chelsea asked, her voice weak and quiet. She cleared her throat as the question echoed back towards her, the only response given. Walking slowly through the shop, more details caught her attention; the coffeemakers were gone, as well as all the food in the glass pastry case. All of the paintings that had been on the walls, collected and donated over time by generous customers, no longer hung on the walls. All that was left of them were darker spots of the wall, protected from the wear-and-tear of every day life. **

**There was a half-ripped white paper taped to the back room that immediately caught Chelsea's eye as she fished out her back-up store key from her pockets. Removing the paper, she unlocked the door and stepped quietly inside, making sure to let the door go gently. **

**Eyes scanning the paper, Chelsea furrowed her eyebrows as she struggled to fully understand the full meaning of the note with the limited information it provided.**

_**OFFICIAL**__**NOTICE: **__Al employees and owner(s) of the corporation A Day Latte will have approximately three to five days to collect any belongings, paychecks, and other fundings/benefits. After that time period, all items will no longer be of their ownership. _

_The last day all employees and owner(s) will be able to work for a full salary will be Summer 30th. As of the evening of Fall 1st, business renovations will officially commence. _

_We apologize for any inconveniences this move may bring you, and hope that you may have good fortune finding/resuming business elsewhere. _

_Haila Madelynn and Nick Luke , proprietors of Sunshine Islands' Café and Diner._

What did this mean, though? Summer 30th was today…A funny feeling buzzed inside Chelsea's head irritably, a feeling similar to having a word "on the tip of your tongue".

The meaning was right on the fringes of her mind…

"Is this some sort of joke?" Chelsea muttered in frustration, turning the paper to the side as though that would help her to understand. "To get back at me for missing work?"

"As clever of an idea as that would be, that notice is anything but a joke," a voice remarked derisively from within the room.

Chelsea jumped back, startled at presence of a vaguely familiar voice when she had thought she was alone.

"Who's there?" she asked, her voice rising in pitch. "Why are you here? And…where are you?"

There was an exhausted grunt, then a great _fwoosh_ noise as a heap of precariously balanced empty boxes tumbled to the ground, revealing an unusually sheepish looking man. Dressed in a blue apron and crisp white shirt, he looked like an exemplar worker for the food industry. However, it was the notorious hairstyle that revealed his status as the café's veteran; several strands of blonde hair held back by hair pins.

"Oh. Chase," Chelsea sighed, relieved it wasn't a burglar or thief. "What were you doing?"

"Dozed off packing up the unused boxes. I only woke up when your loud self bumbled into the room," he said, eyeing her suspiciously. "I should be asking why you of all people are here. Especially after your no-show."

"It's…a long story," Chelsea floundered, shrinking under his disapproving gaze. "One I'm sure you'd rather not hear. I came in to see if I could make it up somehow and found all of this instead."

Chase didn't say anything for a few moments, but only continued to stare at Chelsea with a calculating expression. He seemed to believe her story, however, as he eventually looked away, the usual uninteresting countenance back on his face.

"I've gotta say, you picked a pretty bad day to miss work," he said. "Very…eventful." Leaning on the now empty counters that were built into the room's wall, Chase's eyes were glued on the opposite wall. Chelsea was tempted to look as well, but knew there would be nothing there. Chase was simply strange in that way, always seeing things she wasn't.

_Something isn't right, _she thought to herself. Tendrils of dread started to wrap themselves around her like suffocating vines, squeezing any comforting feeling that was left out of her. Unexplainable fear, a feeling that was becoming quite familiar to her by now, began as a throb in the pit of her stomach.

"Eventful? What are you saying? And cut the mysterious, vague crap please."

Chase's mouth twitched into a smirk, his eyes dancing with dark humor. All at once, Chelsea felt as though someone had punched her in the stomach. She had seen that expression on another nearly every day. And for the first time, Chelsea noticed the nearly identical coloring between Chase's eyes and-

"Cutting out the commentary that our lovely boss Yolanda provided to the rest of us that came to work on time…We're losing our jobs," Chase deadpanned, rolling up his sleeves slowly. He looked back to Chelsea with a stoic, unreadable expression.

"We've been bought out. A Day Latte's done."

Chelsea was still for a moment, registering what Chase's words implied. Crossing her arms tightly, she met his inscrutable gaze with disbelief.

"That's…that can't be, Chase. Is this some kind of sick joke?"

As if a switch had been flipped, Chase's demeanor turned icy in a matter of seconds. "Didn't I already tell you this wasn't a joke? Why would I joke about something this serious?"

"They'd have to let us know ahead of time…They'd _have_ to… Who's buying us out?" Chelsea murmured, leaning against the wall herself for support.

"Some big company from an archipelago powerhouse," he said, his voice bitter. "They're setting up a branch here, trying to get the word out about all their quaint little islands or something."

Something seemed to _click_ together in Chelsea's mind as he said that, like the last piece of a puzzle finally being fitted. The synapses in her mind shot off like gunfire, and the final, awful realization hit her.

"We're losing our jobs," she whispered, her voice failing at the end. "Oh, Goddess, we're losing our _jobs._"

Chase snorted, looking away from Chelsea as he shook his head.

"Great work, space cadet. It's finally hit home for you, hasn't it? Now you understand why we haven't been working today. See all the boxes here?" he gestured, sounding strangled. "We've been packing up the things to help Yolanda out. Anything that's movable gets packed up."

"Where is Yolanda?" Chelsea whispered, trying to subtly hide her face as the tears threatened to have another round.

"I told her to go home. Get some rest. She's retiring, you know. Getting too old, she says. Now that this business' gone, she's done."

A projection of Yolanda surfaced in Chelsea's mind. For the first time, the number of wrinkles and the stiffness of which the older woman moved went noticed by her. The prickling of tears at her eyes faded as they dripped down her face freely for the second time that day. Although embarrassed, Chelsea made no move to wipe them away.

"Oh, Chase," Chelsea lamented, her voice thick with tears. "What are we going to do? When is Yolanda going to do? How can this…this _company_ do this?"

She saw Chase shake his head wearily out of the corner of her eyes, before seating himself down on the floor to rest against the counters. His eyes, half-lidded with exhaustion, lingered on the ceiling. Chelsea sat down next to him in turn, feeling like they had become suddenly become close in the short time they had been sitting in the back room.

"Don't you have another job along with this one?"

I have it during the Spring and Summer months. Two days ago was the last time I'll work there until next Spring," Chelsea said numbly.

"Oh," Chase muttered. A few minutes of silence elapsed between them before anyone spoke again.

"I'm taking Yolanda in," he said quietly. "I've already talked to Maya about it. She and Dakota will enjoy having her around more. "

His expression had softened at their mention, and Chelsea could see a glimpse of the worry and fear that plagued him. What would they do, his wife and child, without Chase bringing home the sustenance so critical for life in the city? They were his…how did the expression go?

The chinks in his armor.

"We're leaving the city."

"…What?" Chelsea exclaimed, her eyes widening. "But why, Chase? You could probably get a job anywhere in the food industry here. You're good enough."

"That's not the reason we're going. It was great at first, living here. Convenient, lively. I learned a lot about food service here."

He paused, seeming to hesitate with his next words.

"But it became a rat race, after a while. It's become something I have to endure, rather than enjoy. And for Dakota to grow up here…"

Chelsea nodded as his sentence dropped off at the end, understanding what he was trying to say.

"Where will you go?"

"Yolanda has talked about relocating back to her hometown. She used to be a prestigious cook there, and has said she'd be willing to teach me all she knows during her retirement…I think the place was called Waffle Island. A ridiculous name, but I've heard good things about it. And with a new place…there's going to be new opportunities. "

"New place…new opportunities…" Chelsea repeated thoughtfully to herself. After a few seconds, she sighed and got to her feet , looking to her friend at the left. "Is there anything I can help with before tomorrow? Anything at all?"

Chase shook his head, his eyes clouded over as he shadowed her actions . "Nah. We've already finished packing up everything for the most part hours ago."

"Why are you still here then?"

Picking at the imaginary lint on this clothes, Chase didn't give Chelsea an answer straight away.

"My first job out of high school was here, fifteen years ago. I met Maya here, and proposed to her here. I know every last nook and cranny of this place. What it comes down to, I guess, is…I'll just miss it."

Unable to stop herself, Chelsea flung herself at Chase and held onto him tightly, despite his discernible shock.

"I'm going to miss you, Chase," she said softly, ignoring his stiff posture at her touch. "If I never see you again, just know that. I hope your dream of becoming a chef comes true."

The man tentatively returned the embrace, which Chelsea appreciated, knowing his aversion towards intimacy with many people.

"Yeah, yeah…I'll miss you too. It was good knowing you. You brought a lot of life to the café. But hey, don't write off us never meeting again. It's a small world, you know?"

The familiar Chase she had worked with for the past few years returned in his last few words, and Chelsea almost smiled.

"You should go on home. You'll just manage to miss the evening rush hour if you go now."

Chelsea nodded, sniffing wetly. Her emotions had been rubbed raw from the days' events, and she would be glad to go home at last.

"Will you be okay here?" she asked, looking back one last time at the fallen coffee shop, and its most loyal of serviceman standing in the center. "By yourself?"

Chase nodded, waving her away heedlessly. "Yeah, I'll be okay. I just…want to stay for a few more minutes. You…take care of yourself, kid."

Opening the door to the pre-Fall breeze, Chelsea breathed in deeply. There was change in the air, inevitably there with the shifting of the seasons.

"You too, Chase. The same goes for Maya, Dakota, and Yolanda."

"Will do."

With a final parting glance, Chelsea stepped fully out from the shop, her stride carrying her down the street as the familiar jingling of the door's bell sounded faithfully. She didn't look back.

**0o0o0o0o**

Scrambling through her front door with a handful of mail in one hand and Levitt's leash in the other, Chelsea nearly collapsed upon closing the front door to her apartment. Excited to play with his owner after her extended absence, Levitt jumped up at Chelsea, successfully sending envelopes and newspaper everywhere.

"Bad dog," she scolded half-heartedly, shooing the dog away as she crouched down to pick up the mess. Wounded, Levitt padded away with his tail between his legs, his destination being the small space underneath the loveseat in the living room.

Collecting the papers together, Chelsea trudged into the kitchen area before dumping everything on the bare table haphazardly.

Venturing unexcitedly towards the fridge, Chelsea pulled leftover pasta from a few nights ago. Her stomach twisted as she recalled having Vaughn over that night for dinner, and her appetite disappeared in a matter of seconds.

Taking a reluctant bite of pasta, Chelsea chewed automatically, not tasting anything as she took hold of the newspaper. She began flipping through it, hoping for something, anything, to distract her from her own lethal thoughts.

And there it was. On page 7 of the Classified Ads, sticking out like a sore thumb with a noticeable title banner reading, _The Sunshine Islands: Where Happiness Is Plenty. _

Chelsea's lungs nearly failed as she read it. Heart racing, she continued reading, her eyes hungrily devouring each words thoroughly.

_How would you like to enjoy a peaceful and refreshing farm life? Better yet, how would you like to trade your dull, monotonous city life for a chance to live on a beautiful tropical paradise, bursting with lush natural scenery, friendly people, and exotic natural resources? If this sounds like a dream come true, then you belong on the Sunshine Islands! Think you're interested? For more information on this once in a lifetime offer, contact: 1-234-567-8910. We hope to see you there!_

_*Those interested must call before Fall 3__rd__ for offer to remain valid. Offer includes only one individual's trip._

A single paragraph, less than three inches on paper, was all it took.

Appearing seemingly out of thin air, the idea moved swiftly throughout Chelsea's mind, resilient and infectious like the worst of diseases. It was horrible and great, impossible yet so easily achievable. Unthinkable, wrong, but with such an allure.

And the more she thought about it, the more Chelsea found herself wanting it. It was stuck in her mind, caught in between two places where it would be thought about again and again. Unable to be gotten rid of, as it had already taken a hold of her mind and left a mark.

She would do it.

Tearing the article out with trembling fingers, Chelsea drifted over to her phone on the kitchen counter. She typed in the numbers without thinking about it, as though in a trance. The notoriously repetitive ringing began, and Chelsea waited.

"_Hello! This is Felicia from the Sunshine Islands', how can I help you this evening?"_

Breaking from the trance, Chelsea stuttered, struggling to find the right words. "O-oh, hello. I-I'm calling regarding your…your article in the newspaper?"

"Oh, yes! Are you interested in moving to our Islands? May I ask your name?"

"Ah…Um, Chelsea. Chelsea Lambent."

"_Well, Chelsea Lambent, it's a pleasure to meet you! Tell me, have you ever had any experience with farming?" _

"I-…yes. Yes, I have. I lived on a farm my entire childhood."

"_Do you enjoy hobbies such as gardening and caring for animals?" _

"Yes, I love to do both. Although it's sometimes difficult to do in a city."

"_Oh dear, I can imagine. What city do you currently have residence in?" _

"Flower Bud City."

"_And last question…Would you be interested in living and working on a farm again on the Islands?"_

"Yes," Chelsea whispered, sealing the deal. "I would."

"_Well then, Ms. Lambent, it looks as though it's your lucky day! You meet all qualifications for a farming career out here on the Sunshine Islands! Congratulations!" _

"R-really?" Chelsea squeaked, eyes bulging in the surprise of the moment. "I do?"

"Yes! There's a ticket for a one-way boat trip to the Sunshine Islands with your name on it waiting for you!"

"Oh my…" Chelsea said, her head spinning. "When do I leave?"

"_The date on the ticket says Fall 3__rd__, 8:00 a.m is when the ferry departs. Does this work well for you?" _

"Yes, it works perfectly," Chelsea said distractedly, something nagging on the edges of her mind.

"_Oh, this is so wonderful! We've been waiting for someone to call us about the farming position! I can't wait to tell everyone, they'll be so excited! You'll love it out here, Ms. Lambent, I just know it. Out here, it's almost as though you're separated from the rest of the world's troubles. You don't get so heartsick." _

You don't get so world sick.

Chelsea's stomach drooped to her feet as she realized her horrible error. Hiss face appeared behind her eyes, hurt and disappointed. His terrible, beautiful eyes glared back at her, asking, _how could you do this?_

"Felicia…Are there, by chance…Any more tickets available for the trip?"

"_Any more tickets, sweetheart? Why, no…There is only the one available, of course. The article itself says we only have the room and expenses for one person to travel and settle here."_

Chelsea meant to hang up right then. Just shake her head and tell herself that she couldn't do that. Tell Felicia that she just wasn't interested anymore, and apologize for wasting her time. She would put the phone back down in the receiver and move on with her life, forgetting about the offer in a matter of hours. She would find another job, and she would do everything she had always done-

"_Chelsea, dear? Are you still there?" _

"Yes. I'm still here," Chelsea said, watching as Levitt came to sit on the ground below her. His head was cocked to the side, and he was watching her with a curious expression, as though even he was puzzled by her actions.

"_Are you still interested in the offer?" _

Her fingers twitched on the phone, readying themselves to hang up. But before she could do anything…Suddenly, she thought of Mirabelle. This woman she never knew, but had openly grieved for nonetheless. She imagined her last moments of life, full of pain and fear, all because of the recklessness of another driver.

Chelsea did not hesitate.

"Yes. I'll be there Fall 3rd. Ready to farm."

"The Islands will be waiting for you with eagerness, Ms. Lambent. I thank you for calling this number. There is no doubt in my mind you will serve the Sunshine Islands well. Have a safe trip, dear, and I hope to see you in a few days' time."

Chelsea whispered her own goodbye, before finally hanging up the phone. A sudden wave of nausea surged up her throat, and Chelsea feared the few bites of pasta she had eaten would make a reappearance right then.

What had she done?

**0o0o0o0o**


	11. Chapter 11

_Author's Note: Yeah, I have no excuse for not updating. The best I can offer is lack of time and busyness. Anyways, while I feel this chapter was not up to my usual standards, I hope it proves adequate. We're close to reaching the climax of the story, so these next few chapters will be very important. Thanks for reading, even after this long of a time, and hope you enjoy the most recent chapter of __World Sick__!_

**0o0o0o0o**

It was the first morning after it had happened, with a night rendered sleepless by vicious reenactments warped by guilt to back him up, that Vaughn resolved to make amends with the girl he had so foolishly pushed away. He couldn't bear her not knowing, not understanding that he meant nothing of what he had told her. That it wasn't really _him_ speaking…at least, not the him that she knew. The need to explain himself, now that he was in right mind, seemed to grow incessantly.

His persistent search throughout their park after work proved to be as fruitless as the trees surrounding him, no longer able to sustain the lush bounty that existed in the spring and summer months. _How quickly things change_, Vaughn found himself thinking, as a chilly breeze traveled past him, suspending a bounty of the season's first fallen leaves. He moved onward, away, a subtle ache in his chest as he did so. All he could think of was the way the wind would play so gently with her hair, and how the leaves seemed to interweave themselves in it to her evermore surprise.

The city succumbed to the night's darkness early that night, the summer having vanished and autumn having taken its place so willingly. Vaughn sat at his kitchen table, suffering an acute sense of déjà vu as he picked up the phone. Everything around him faded away, fell out of focus; the only thing he could hear was that familiar ringing that seemed to echo all around him. A voice picked up, mechanically apologetic.

"_We're sorry. The person you are calling is unavailable at this time. Please check the number you are ca-" _

Vaughn slammed the phone down, unable to bear hearing another word. His chest suddenly grew heavy, and he became strangely dizzy, as though someone had their hands grasped tightly around his throat. Staggering over to the window on the other side of the kitchen, Vaughn threw it open and thrust his head out. His hands gripped the bars around it tightly, his fingers turning white with the strain. He breathed in the crisp air slowly, gradually regaining his composure with every exchange.

Inhale_, give her some time, she'll respond_. Exhale_, she's still around, what are you worrying about? _

Resting his head on his arms, Vaughn closed his eyes to the city. It was a quiet night. A salty breeze, likely emanating from the nearby shore, infiltrated his sinuses. An owl called not far off in the distance, sounding vaguely of a lament. A single car rushed by, its tires rasping against the ground noisily in the near silence. Vaughn felt, more than heard, a certain underlying tension in the air. While he could not name it, it stirred a recognizable feeling of dread in him. That same feeling that something was changing, yet again.

Shaking his head, Vaughn stood up. He was losing his sense, in this self-induced panic he was putting himself through. Struggling to banish such toxic thoughts away, Vaughn lay in bed, willing a dreamless sleep to allow him some relief., if only until the next morning.

**0o0o0o0o**

Vaughn stood across the street, stunned, as the sign denoting _A Day Latte _struck the cemented ground with a booming crash. It was the second morning, and he had been on his way home from work when the sounds of hammers and drills interrupted his thoughts.

Construction workers gathered around the fallen emblem, whooping and cheering excitedly over it. A rather gargantuan man picked up the sign in its entirety and brought it over to a nearby truck, depositing it in the bed with what looked to Vaughn to be other garbage and waste material.

He continued to watch as the man on the ladder, who had taken down the _A Day Latte _sign, was handed another, larger one. He seemed to struggle with its weight, but managed to nail it to the building's front successfully. Vaughn's eyes narrowed in bewilderment, and he found himself walking in the direction of the large man by the truck.

While Vaughn liked to think of himself as a decently sized man, he was nearly dwarfed in comparison to whoever this giant was. The man was a good foot and a half taller than Vaughn's six feet, had arms the size of his torso, and a countenance that made Vaughn slightly wary of approaching him.

Clearing his throat, Vaughn caught the attention of the giant man easily. "Hey! Can I help ya' with anything'?"

"Can you tell me what's going on here?" Vaughn asked, eyeing the construction workers in the background. They were filtering in and out of the building, carrying assorted items that Vaughn would associate with renovation.

The man simply looked at Vaughn, before bursting out raucous laughter. "You wanna know what's goin' on here, eh? Haven't you heard the news? That little coffee shop, A Day Latte, went outta' business. They got bought over by a business over on the Sunshine Islands that's looking to expand into other places," the man said.

"Name's Gannon, by the way. And you are?"

"Vaughn."

"Well nice ter' meet ya, Vaughn!" Gannon boomed, grabbing Vaughn's hand and shaking it vigorously.

Vaughn looked back up at the shop, almost incredulous. The new sign was now completely nailed on; he had no problem reading it. Some of the workers had moved on, and were attaching a banner above the sign, reading, "Grand Opening".

"The Sunshine Islands' Café and Diner…"

"Yeah! Sounds mighty nice, don't ya' think? I live there when I'm not workin', ya' know. Sunshine Islands…they're a real special place, only been discovered in the last few years really. Been thinking' 'bout bringin' my daughter to live there, too."

Growing increasingly frustrated with Gannon, Vaughn bit down a string of sarcastic remarks. As civilly as he could, he asked, "What happened to the people working at the old business?"

Vaughn knew what the answer would be before it came. He broke out in a cold sweat, as he was bombarded by thoughts of Chelsea. Of the times she would bring them both a croissant after work, of her aroma after being encompassed by coffee grounds and pastries.

Gannon shrugged, nonchalant. "From what I've heard, they lost their jobs. Maybe they'll move their business elsewhere. I hope most of them can find new jobs…They'd probably have luck on the Islands, there are plenty o' openings there right now."

By this point, Vaughn had stopped listening to him ramble. His concentration had fallen away after his first sentence.

She no longer had a job. No income. There was no longer anything holding her to the city, aside from him. And what if he was no longer enough of a reason for her to stay?

Distracted, Vaughn vaguely thanked Gannon for his information before beginning to walk away. Gannon, taking no offense to his abrupt leaving, simply waved at him in goodbye.

"Yer' welcome, Vaughn! Hope you find what you seem to be lookin' for!"

_Me too_, he thought bitterly, as he rounded a corner only to see one of the gardening shops Chelsea had often worked at. Memories resurfacing from the edges of his mind, Vaughn looked over the fence at the area that had once been the place where her true, green-thumbed nature had come out.

A lone flower, its petals wilted brown, was the only remnant that her presence was ever there.

**0o0o0o0o**

It was on the third morning of the third day that something indiscernible inside of him snapped.

It was on the third morning of the third day of her absence, of hearing no word of her unknown whereabouts, of suffering through recall after recall of that irrevocable conversation, that his self control splintered and broke, the pieces flying without certain direction.

Slamming his apartment door behind him, Vaughn stormed through the city with little regard to what was happening around him. As it was early morning, there were less people out and about; nonetheless, he received his fair share of strange looks and glances.

It was as though he had tunnel vision. Right now, he could focus on nothing else but getting to Chelsea's apartment building. There was nothing else he could do, until he saw her for his own eyes. Until he had told her he was sorry, and that he loved her.

Vaughn slowed, his breathing ragged as he realized both how quickly he had been moving and the thought that had just passed through his mind. _Did_ he love her? The thought had occurred so easily, to the point where it was surprising.

Was the change evident in him since he met her, nearly a year ago, evidence of this subjective emotion?

The fact that he felt more alive around her, every fiber in his body aware of things he had never noticed before? Before he had met her, he hadn't noticed things like the changing of the seasons more than what was necessary. He had scoffed, unable to understand when people described the caress from a breeze on a hot Summer day, or the driving winds of Winter that seemed to reach his core. Everything was sharper, in focus, around her.

The things he had always taken for granted… Chelsea had shown him how to appreciate them.

Did it mean he loved her? The fact that he cared about her more than he had ever cared about anyone else, more than he thought capable of? That he felt comfortable around her, a difficult feat for him, and that he would do anything for her happiness? He wanted the best for her.

_Could_ he love her?

Cursing, Vaughn sped up again as he saw her apartment in the near distance. Breaking into a run, he made it to her door a matter of seconds before he could hold it back no more.

He pounded on her door, unable to maintain the nice guy act anymore. He had waited, he had tried to give her space by accepting the fact that he probably wasn't the first person she wanted to see - but she still hadn't appeared, or even contacted him. It had been three days.

How was he to explain to her everything, to apologize, to tell her that he thought he loved her and that it was the most terrifying thing he had ever felt, but that is was also one of the most invigorating feelings in the world?

"Chelsea…Chelsea, please…Please, just open the door," Vaughn said, cajoling with the unopened door. He leaned his head on it, pounding once more with a closed fist.

"Two minutes. That all you have to give me to talk. Shut the door on my face, after that. Just…listen. Please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

_Maybe she's just on the other side of the door_, thought Vaughn. _Getting the biggest kick out of this. _

She always did find it amusing when he talked more. Loved to fluster him, but hated to be flustered herself…

A sudden jolt interrupted Vaughn's thoughts, startling him into backing up a few steps. His heart soared as the door handle began to jiggle from the inside. It appeared that someone was unlocking it. A few tugs, and the jarred door was free.

As quickly as his spirits had risen, they dropped once more upon seeing the person responsible for opening the door.

"Ah! O-oh, you scared me there. Is there anything I can help you with, sir…?"

It was a man who looked to be very white-collar and professional. With penny loafers, gray slacks, and a white button-down with a tie, the man fit the mould almost perfectly. When Vaughn didn't answer straight away, taking in the man's appearance, he seemed to become slightly nervous.

"Uh…sir?"

"Where is the person who lives here?"

The man's bespectacled eyes, black and beady, looked sheepish. "Ah, you mean…", he trailed off, bringing up a clipboard he held in his other hand, "Chelsea…Lambent? The previous tenant?"

"_Yes_. Where is she?" Vaughn asked, nearly growling at the poor man.

"I-I'm afraid, sir, that I don't know. I'm only her realtor." The man fiddled with his tie, wiping an arm across his brow.

"Realtor?" Vaughn repeated to himself. "…_Previous_ tenant?"

"Yes, sir…She no longer lives here. The apartment was put up for sale today, on very short notice."

_No longer lives here…very short notice…_

Comprehension hit Vaughn like a slap in the face. Dread flooded his body, stronger than anything he had felt in the past three days. A fierce headache seemed to come on without reason, pounding in synchronicity with his racing pulse.

"Mister…Are you alright…?"

Vaughn was scarcely aware of the man anymore. Or much of anything. The puzzle pieces of Chelsea's "disappearance" were finally being put together in his head. How could he have not realized…?

"How long ago did she leave? Do you know her destination?" Vaughn demanded from him, adrenaline beginning to ebb through his veins.

The man seemed to hesitate to answer; his gaze dropped from Vaughn's, falling to the floor. "I-I…I really shouldn't tell you…It's not in my authority-"

"No. Please. I need to find her. I messed up. She needs to know…that I…"

Vaughn became unable to speak properly, his words failing him. The man looked back up at him, observing his struggle. He was silent, calculating. A look of sympathy and understanding passed through his countenance, and the man became thoughtful before sighing.

"Alright. I really shouldn't be doing this…but…Ms. Lambent mentioned that she had a ferry to catch this morning, at the docks. I think she said they were leaving at…eight o'clock?"

Vaughn checked his watch; it was seven fifteen. Forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes before she left.

He looked back towards the man, who was watching him carefully. "Thank you," Vaughn said. "You're helping me out more than you know."

The man shrugged. "My wife left me after an argument not too long ago. One of my biggest regrets was not going after her. I wouldn't want the same to happen to you."

Vaughn nodded, and his respect for the stranger grew almost exponentially.

"You'd better hurry. The ferry has a tendency to leave on time."

Vaughn nodded again, before sparing a last glance at his watch. Forty-three minutes.

Adrenaline pumping throughout his body, he began running.

**0o0o0o0o**


	12. Chapter 12

**0o0o0o0o**

A downpour of autumnal rain sheathed itself over the city, slicking the already fallen leaves with a new sheet of moisture. Colors seemed to fade away in the cool mist, shading the buildings and streets in hues of black, white, and gray. Gusts of wind sent a flurry of raindrops and leaves soaring through the crowd, winding in between the bodies of those waiting for the ferry. A dissatisfied grumble pulsed through them, lamenting the weather and willing the boat to travel just a bit faster.

Looking up, Chelsea took in the sky above her, gray and colorless to match the rest of the city. Silver snippets of clouds spackled the sky like a pelt, disrupting the uniformity. Drops pelted her face with a surprising gentleness, catching on her eyelashes and hair. Above her, leaves seem to pirouette to a song she couldn't hear, twirling around her head spryly. Before she knew it, a couple had caught in her hair, tangled amongst the coppery strands. She almost smiled.

It was the day. Fall 3rd had arrived, and brought with it such strong feelings of ambivalence that Chelsea had begun to question herself once more on whether or not this decision would be the right one. Chills diffused down her spine; she supposed it was more than just the damp, cold weather that caused them.

Of course she had to do this. She _wanted_ to do this, Chelsea knew, deep down within. Hadn't she told Felicia that she was interested in a life of farming? Why would she have answered that way, if it wasn't true? This was the chance of a lifetime. How had Felicia described the island…

"_Out here, it's almost as though you're separated from the rest of the world's troubles. You don't get so heartsick." _

Something tugged at her heartstrings palpably; she tried to swallow the lump that had risen so suddenly in her throat, without success.

This was _her_ chance to make something of her life. _Her_ chance to pursuit those feelings of satisfaction, of happiness and content just as her own family had. Stuck in this city, she was nothing. She hadn't accomplished much of anything, made much of an impact on anyone. It was her chance to entirely extinguish that feeling that something was missing.

Moreover, there was very little left for Chelsea here. No anchors to keep her rooted in the city. No longer a job, or an income. She had no family here. Nothing to hold her here, except for…

Tears prickled at the corners of Chelsea's eyes as she tried to squelch his name from her thoughts, albeit unsuccessfully. The steady grip she had once had on her emotions was far gone; nothing was left to protect them from the elements of hurt that seemed to surround her so often lately.

All of the doubt and misgivings she had been suffering through since that one simple phone call rooted back to Vaughn. It was as if he was really standing behind her, whispering questions she didn't have the answers to.

_Why hadn't she told him? Why did she feel the need to go? Why couldn't he make her happy? _

As it was, she could only truly answer one of those questions. She couldn't bring herself to tell him. Crippling fear and a staggering amount of guilt seized her each time the opportunity seemed to arise; she saw him, time after time, pass through their park, yet didn't do a thing but close the blinds of her windows. She unplugged her phone after he called, rather than to answer it. A brief wave of self-disgust washed over her; and here, she liked to think of herself as a brave and honest person.

Ultimately, it was his reaction she was afraid of. Despite the incident that had passed between them the last time they were together, Chelsea couldn't find it in her to fear his anger. Moreover, she feared seeing the shock, hurt, and the eventual pity pass through his eyes, so quickly a stranger would miss it were they not familiar with his tendencies.

Then again, another small part of her believed he wouldn't care at all. Indifference and apathy were just as frightening a possibility. Perhaps he was telling the truth, when he said he didn't want her there. What if the words, spit in contempt, were true? Perhaps he wouldn't care at all, if she left. She would be leaving him alone, after all, wouldn't she? Just as he wanted, right?

The more she thought about it, the more the possibility scared her. And the more it seemed likely, as well.

Sniffing determinedly, Chelsea dabbed at her eyes subtly, hoping no one was paying any close inspection to her. She felt ridiculous and embarrassed by her reactions. Fortunately, all eyes were turned towards the sea, reflected gray by the sky with its choppy waves and salty air.

The ferry could be seen in the distance, a small shadow in the cloudy horizon. Politely, she asked a man next to her for the time. Seven forty-seven. Thirteen minutes. Thirteen minutes before she would leave this place behind.

Absently, a memory surfaced from the depths of her consciousness, floating thoughtfully across her mind's eye. A conversation, spoken out of the blue, between herself and... Questions of longing curiosity; _have you ever wanted to leave this city behind? See what else is out there to offer?_

He had disagreed; a jaded, knowing expression had passed through his sharp features. Had disagreed that, however tempting the idea seemed, the grass was greener on the other side of the fence. He hadn't understood her desire to leave the city behind, to find that bigger, better place out there just waiting to be found. She recalled his expression, confused, at her speech of wanting to find the whole other world out there that she wasn't aware of yet.

A body bumped her from behind, interrupting Chelsea's recollection mid-memory. People began moving all around, hustling her amongst them. They began edging forward, farther into the dock where they would board the ferry on its arrival. Feeling significantly like a herded sheep, Chelsea noticed that more people had showed up to wait for boarding.

The minutes passed by more quickly than ever, then, as Chelsea lost herself to her thoughts once more. She watched absently as the ferry drew gradually closer to the dock, the vast gray shape seeming to grow right before her eyes.

She barely noticed anymore that she was thoroughly soaked through; unlike a great deal of the other residents, she hadn't thought to have brought her umbrella. Looking down at her feet, she was glad to have invested in buying an animal crate for this trip; Levitt slept soundly away inside, warm and dry. The only bag she carried with her, an over-the-shoulder purse, didn't share the same fate. Thankfully, she had packed only bare essentials; a few pairs of clothes at the top, which protected the more important items, like money and ID, at the bottom.

What seemed like only a matter of minutes later, the ferry arrived at the dock for boarding. Chelsea inferred by the pleased reactions of those around her that it must have been a few minutes early. She watched as a man walked down from the boat, and onto the dock before the waiting passengers.

"Orderly lines, everyone! Orderly lines! Please have any means of identification ready at your turn! We embark in ten minutes!"

A strange tremor made its way across Chelsea's body. Ten minutes.

The number of passengers before her quickly diminished, until she was the front of the line herself. A ferry official stood before her, serious and focused. Digging through her bag, Chelsea pulled out her identification and the one-way trip ticket she had received in the mail the first day of autumn.

"Chelsea Lambent, age twenty-four, date of birth Spring 20th?"

"Yes, sir."

The man nodded, and scanned through the rest of her credentials quickly. Handing them back to her, he smiled slightly.

"Everything looks to be in order, Miss Lambent. You're qualified to board the ferry. We should be reaching the Sunshine Islands in approximately four hours-"

The man broke off, staring off into the distance somewhere behind her with narrowed eyes. He made a low tsking noise, and shook his head slightly.

"People these days," he muttered, a hint of disdain in his tone. "Perhaps we should get security…"

It was then that Chelsea noticed the yelling over the general chatter of those waiting to board. A deep, hoarse voice, demanding to be let through the crowd, just for a few minutes.

Her heart seemed to freeze in her chest, her breath trapped in her throat, as she recognized the voice, only as one would had spent day after day listening to it, often wishing it was there when she was alone, could.

"CHELSEA! Chelsea, don't do this!"

Don't turn around. Don't turn around. If she turned around now, it would ruin everything.

"CHELSEA!"

Gravity was shifting all around her; Chelsea swayed on her feet, feeling strangely light as though she were made of arm. Rough hands grabbed her shoulders, steadying him firmly.

"Ma'am…? Are you alright?"

Fight or flight? Fight or flight? The phrase kept repeating her head relentlessly, over and over again without pause. It had to be flight, right? Her heart was pounding away, and she could feel it in her ears. Sweat dewed at her temples, and a shaky sensation accompanied it.

Chelsea looked up at the man; she wondered if he could see the agony displayed across her features, or if it was unintelligible in the mess of her emotions. His countenance became one of confusion and concern.

If she concentrated, she could still make out the yelling in the background.

"The man who's yelling back there-"

"Is he traveling with you?" the official asked, raising his eyebrows dubiously.

"No. No, but please…I need to talk to him, Please, just let me through. It won't take long, I'll be back before the ferry-"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can't let you do that. We're going to be departing in less than ten minutes."

"Please, sir! It won't take more than a few minutes, please!"

She was nearly screaming herself, now. Whether it was because of the urgency in her tone, or simply because of exasperation, the man sighed. Waving her on, he nodded curtly.

"Go. Be back before the ferry leaves. We won't hesitate to leave you behind."

"Thank you," Chelsea managed, before taking off through the remainder of the crowd. Pushing and sliding between bodies, she was met with several grunts of disapproval and sneering slights. His voice grew louder with each step she took.

This was a mistake. She knew so. Once she saw him there, standing and yelling her name, could she find it in herself to go back to that ferry? What happened to not saying goodbye, what happened to the clean cut she had planned on?

How had her feelings changed so quickly, in the course of mere minutes? Would she regret going back to meet him, to talk to him one last time? Will she have wished she had ignored the calls of her name, and boarded the ship without looking back? Would that have been the smart choice, the least painful way of leaving?

Would she have been happy with not knowing?

The rain had picked up again, slicing Chelsea's face with freezing cuts. The wind blew sopping strands around her face, but she was beyond caring.

"CHELSEA!"

He had seen her; she could tell in the change of tone. She could hear the urgency pressing in, the desperation, so different from the usual stoic, serious inflection that colored his words. People were staring at him, giving looks of hostility and annoyance. People were muttering about cutting in line, and unnecessary disruption. A man had taken out his phone and was talking on it, staring daggers at him

What had happened to them both? Were they even the same people?

They were across from each other then, less than three feet away, equally drenched and dripping. Rain ran down Chelsea's face, dripping into her eyes and blurring the world around her. Without warning, Vaughn lunged forward, reaching up to take hold of her arms firmly. He pulled her even closer to him so they were nearly chest to chest, and stared down at her with stone-cold eyes.

Before either of them could say anything at all, his hands had captured her jaw, leading her face to his. Their lips brushed together softly at first, but were soon pressed together with an overwhelming force, melding together as though they were not two, but one. His thumbs, pressing into her jaw, had lost the rough tension that had possessed them before; they were nothing but gentle now.

It was as thought everything that had happened between them in the past few days was temporarily forgotten. It was just him, and her, and no one else.

There was no fire in this embrace, not like the other kisses they had shared in the past. The fire that would blaze between their bodies, as though actual flames had ignited a wildfire in the space between them, wasn't present. It was different. Something deeper, more fathomless and gradual than the typical fire had replaced it. Something far within the core of them both, where the heat couldn't quite be felt, but was nonetheless changed beyond their control. As though they themselves had been taken and made anew by the advance, never to be the same again.

And so, it was as they separated, that Chelsea fell apart once more. Crumpling forward, she would have fallen to her knees were Vaughn unable to catch her by the arms in time. A fierce trembling had taken her over, and a loud, desperate sob broke free from her chest.

How could she go back now? How could she turn back to the ferry and board now, after that? A spark of anger at Vaughn surfaced; how could he have done that, changed her so irreversibly?

"Chelsea, don't," he murmured gruffly. "Don't do this."

Unable to speak aloud, she simply shook her head back and forth slowly. The hands holding her up suddenly grew determined, and wrenched her up further so that their eyes were forced to meet.

"What are you _thinking_?"

"I don't know," Chelsea managed to get out, the words sounding breathless and pitchy. "I don't know."

A loud gonging noise rang out from back towards the ferry; they were leaving soon. Raindrops continued to pour down on them, although Chelsea couldn't tell them from the tears at this point.

"I have to go. The boat-"

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, Chelsea."

His words only made the sobs come faster. Hysterics were threatening to take her over; it was a few moments before she could answer properly.

"But I do want to. I want to go. I have to go, don't you understand? There's nothing for me here anymore. How am I supposed to survive in a city without a job, Vaughn? How? I'm so _sick_ of being here! Why don't you understand?"

The volume of her speech had risen considerably by the time she finished talking. Vaughn took the smallest step back from her, his expression unreadable. His hands traveled from her arms, up past her collarbone until they were cradling her face. The voice coming from him was deceptively calm.

"Don't do this. Stay with me. "

Squeezing her eyes shut tightly, Chelsea felt the tears clinging to her lashes drop down her cheeks. She shook her head once more.

"Why now? Why are you doing this now, Vaughn? It's too late now; why did you have to wait?"

Chelsea opened her eyes to see his jaw clenched, a familiar, defiant look in her eyes. "It's not too late. You're still here. I…I…"

Holding her breath, Chelsea realized where the conversation was going. She willed him not to say it, not to say those three horrible words out loud, for if he did, there would truly be no going back.

"I…I can't imagine you gone. I can't see it. I don't know…how…"

His voice cracked on the last word as he struggled to speak the turmoil in his mind. Relieved, Chelsea ignored the small ripping sensations in her chest and the mixed emotions that came with it.

The clock was ticking. The ferry was leaving in a matter of minutes. What would she do? Stay or go? Stay or go?

Before she could do anything more, several things happened at once. Vaughn's body was suddenly jerked backward by two pairs of hands on his shoulders; Chelsea looked toward him in time to see two large men attempting to drag him backwards through the crowd. Noticing their uniforms, a cold recognition flooded through her blood. She recalled the man in the crowd with the phone…and the first official, wanting to get security…

Had they actually called security on Vaughn? Had they called the _police_?

Something indiscernible inside of her snapped. Her self control splintered and broke, the pieces flying without certain direction. Chelsea began to struggle forward after him, shoving through the crowds and forgetting about everything else entirely.

"No! NO! Let him go! He didn't do anything! He was looking for _me_! Please, let him go! VAUGHN!"

"CHELSEA! Let me go, you son of a-"

A hard exhale of air could be heard from one of the men as Vaughn's elbow found his stomach. All around, people were staring and whispering, watching the debacle with wide, fearful eyes.

At the same time, a different set of hands clamped down on Chelsea's own shoulders.

Spinning around, Chelsea was met face to face with another of the ferry officials, a different one from before.

"What-"

"Miss Lambent, if you would please come with me. The ferry is nearly finished boarding."

"No, no you don't understand -"

The official looked somewhat regretful. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I'm going to have to insist. Upon closer inspection of your boarding ticket, it appears it has already been paid for and that a room has been booked for you specifically. It is part of the contract that you must-"

Chelsea had stopped listening to him. She had stopped listening to anything but Vaughn's yelling, getting quieter and quieter as they dragged him away.

"VAUGHN! No! Let me _go_!"

Tugging her hardest against the official's restraint, Chelsea was surprised to be rid of his hold so easily. So surprised, in fact, that she began to lose her balance on the slippery ground…

The dock's wooden surface came rushing up as Chelsea fell forward, the world turned frighteningly diagonal as her footing was lost completely. Unable to catch herself, she hit the ground head-first with a startlingly hard _thud_.

Dizziness washed over Chelsea like a wave, pulling her closer to unconsciousness each second. Faces appeared above her, blurred and indistinct, as they each slowly turned to black, one by one…

Her name, being called out by Vaughn in the far distance, was the last thing she held on to before letting herself succumb to the darkness.

**0o0o0o0o**

_Author's Note: Bleh. I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter…It took me a good long while to write it, though. I'm glad it's over and done with. Hopefully it isn't too confusing! Anyways, thanks for reading, and hope you enjoy this chapter of __World Sick__! Feedback is always appreciated!_


	13. Chapter 13

**0o0o0o0o**

_Blinking her eyes slowly, Chelsea winced as her eyes fluttered opened, her senses on overload as she struggled to remember her surroundings. Trying to sit up, she was startled as a small pair of hands gently pushed her back down to whatever she was laying on. _

_Feeling herself begin to panic, garbled words tumbled out of Chelsea's mouth as she struggled to hold onto consciousness. A small woman with short brown hair, the owner of the small pair of hands, gave Chelsea a concerned look and seemed to loudly call for someone before Chelsea dipped back into unconsciousness. _

_For the second time, Chelsea felt herself surfacing from the darkness as her senses resumed their functioning. This time, a tall, dark-haired man stood with the woman with small hands, peering down at Chelsea quizzically. _

"_Ah, there you are," said the man, a hint of a smile twitching his mouth upward. "Good, good. Now, do you feel as though you are going to go under again? Blink your eyes once for yes, or twice for no."_

_With some consideration, Chelsea blinked her eyes twice. _

"_Great! Do you feel as though you are able to speak? Blink your eyes once for-"_

"_Yes," Chelsea croaked, the hoarseness of her own voice surprising her. She cleared her throat and shifted her body position, realizing for the first time that she was on some sort of cot and was swaddled in several blankets. She could feel the slight dampness of her hair, and realized that her head was pounding._

"_Fantastic! It's good to have you awake, Ms. Lambent. I'm Doctor Trent, and this is my assistant Ellie. It looks like you took a pretty harsh fall."_

"_Where's my stuff?"Chelsea asked, attempting to get up again. For the second hand, the small hands came in and gently pushed her down onto the cot. _

"_Don't worry, Ms. Lambent, all of your luggage and your carrier have been taken into the care of the crew members. I have to ask you to stay still and not move your head, as we can't be sure of the extent of your concussion quite yet."_

"_Concussion," Chelsea mumbled, frowning. "Why?"_

"_Do you remember anything from before your fall, Ms. Lambent?" asked Ellie, with a concerned look on her face again. "Anything at all?"_

"_I…sort of…yes," Chelsea said, squinting her eyes in concentration as she struggled to remember, which made her headache worse. Everyone was silent for a few moments, which seemed to aid in Chelsea's memory recall, as a fuzzy picture of _him _came into focus in her mind. _

"_No," moaned Chelsea, closing her eyes as her chest grew tight and her eyes grew itchy. "Vaughn?"_

_The doctor and his assistant exchanged a look before looking back at Chelsea. _

"_Ms. Lambent…the man you're talking about…Well, it was assumed that he was trying to hurt you. The ferry's crew got to you as soon as they could and carried you onto the ship, away from him. Your ticket and money had already been taken, so they knew you were meant to go on the ferry." _

"_No," Chelsea moaned again, struggling against the emotions mounting within her. "Where is he?" _

"_Who, that man?"_

"_Where is Vaughn?"_

"_Oh, sweetheart, you don't have to worry about him now. He's away from you now, he's not going to hurt you," cooed Ellie, stroking Chelsea's hair gently. "The police came and took him away back in the city."_

_A keening cry ripped from Chelsea's chest, as the truth of what they were saying hit her full force._

"_No," Chelsea cried, the tears finally begin to drip down her cheeks. "You don't understand. He wasn't trying to hurt me!"_

_The doctor and his assistant exchanged another look, but said nothing, seeming to wait for her to continue speaking. But Chelsea was becoming hysterical as the weight of the situation at hand was realized. Her sobs wouldn't stop, and she quickly became inconsolable, her despair only able to be fixed by the man who was no longer there. _

"_I…I…"_

"_Yes, Ms. Lambent?"_

"_I…just…I…love him. I love him."_

_There was silence then. Finally, the doctor sighed, looking at his assistant. "Perhaps it would be best if we checked up on her in an hour or so. Give her a chance to cry herself out."_

_The assistant hesitated, but nodded, giving Chelsea one last look before leaving the room with the doctor. _

_Chelsea was glad when they left. Her heart felt as though it was searing a hole into her chest, and the tears wouldn't stop coming, no matter what she tried. _

_She loved him._

_She lost her chance. _

**0o0o0o0o**

Chelsea stood before her fields as the evening sun set, inspecting that morning's work of watering and weeding with a modest degree of pride. Unending rows of crops were what met her vision; turnips, potatoes, cucumbers, strawberries, and cabbage threatened to overflow the field boundaries. Her green thumb had stayed true to her; the crops had flourished, with minimal insect or weather damage and with impressive size to them.

Having finished earlier than expected, Chelsea sat down and let the thoughts that had been plaguing her so incessantly throughout the morning run rampant. Her mind was especially prone to reminiscence this morning, as it was Spring 16th, _his_ birthday…

_How things change in a year_, she found herself thinking. She sighed, laying back on the grass softly as a soft spring breeze danced past her, smelling of the new life that seemed to erupt from the earth following the barren winter. The year had begun again. A new beginning, a new year full of new possibilities and chances and opportunities.

And yet, here Chelsea was, letting old memories creep up behind her, like a shadow that never quite leaves. Memories of a life that once was, in a place faraway, where a person once existed who still held a small fragment of her with him no matter how much she distracted herself.

Upon her initial arrival to the Sunshine Islands in the fall, Chelsea had launched herself straight into the farming lifestyle, adopting a grueling pace of work that left little room for anything else other than eating and sleeping. She poured her heart and soul into the earth, and watched as life grew before her eyes; she had little time to think of the old life she had left, or of…_him_.

Within the fall season, Chelsea came to have animals on her property. A young chocolate mustang with a wild disposition thought unable to be broken came into her care after the Islands' animal traders could no longer handle it. She smiled to herself as she remembered the discount at which she came to own the horse, and the smiles of relief as the caretakers got rid of the godforsaken creature that had caused them so much woe. She had seen the smug looks that had passed between them, and could imagine what they were thinking. They expected her to fail within days to tame the beast, and planned on laughing at her plight.

To say the least, their shocked expressions were priceless to Chelsea as not even a week later, they saw her galloping across town on the "untamable" mustang, Koda. Needless to say, Chelsea didn't miss the animal traders when they relocated at the end of the season to another region. Their positions still remain open to the public, and Chelsea could only hope that the next animal trader to fill them wouldn't be so mediocre at their jobs. She vaguely remembered Julia mentioning the possibility of a single animal trader coming to take the post in the upcoming new year, but she couldn't be sure…

With Levitt and Koda to keep her company on the lonelier of nights, Chelsea managed to keep up her whirlwind of a work pace throughout the fall sufficiently. With the enormous shipments of crops that began to leave her farm, Chelsea quickly gained recognition across the Sunshine Islands. While her work schedule prevented her from going out and getting to know a lot of the residents on a personal level, nearly everyone knew _of_ Chelsea; the girl farmer who came out of nowhere and sent the Islands soaring into higher prosperity than ever before. Nobody knew much about her, where she came from or why she came…only that she was a miracle to the Islands.

As much as Chelsea dreaded it, the cold season came upon her like a slap in the face. Her crops were gone, and with the land gone barren, Chelsea's previous work schedule fell to pieces in the icy grip of winter. She bought a cow in hopes that it would serve the same purpose that her illustrious crops did, but was disappointed to find that her sweet calf Bo took up far less effort and time to care for than did her finicky plants. The first few days, she bundled up for the cold and took to the fields, cracking every stone and boulder with a swift hit of her hammer, crunching every branch and stump with every well-placed thwack of her axe. But alas, this too would serve to take less energy and time than she wanted, and by the 5th of Winter, Chelsea had exhausted her resources she had been using to distract herself.

She sat alone, petting Levitt and staring out at the falling snowflakes as her heart tore itself to pieces every night. Thoughts of _him_ pervaded many of her waking moments, an unwelcome presence to a girl trying so desperately to forget everything. She didn't want to think, she didn't want to remember, and she didn't want to miss him. She didn't want to _love_.

_Did I make the wrong choice? Should I have never gotten on that ferry? Should I have gone back for him? Would things be different if I had told him that I loved him? Did he love me? Is he looking for me? Is this what I really wanted?_

Questions circled her mind, a dull roar that thundered behind her eyes when she was still and not working. Soon enough, she could no longer take sitting in the house letting her own thoughts of the past devour her; she had to get out.

And so Chelsea ventured out into the Sunshine Islands for the first time without business intentions. She began to talk to the townsfolk, all so different from one another with such dimensional backgrounds and personalities that Chelsea often wondered if the Islands attracted a certain type of person. She began to notice the stark differences between the people of the Islands and the people of the city in which she fled; the Islanders were bursting with life and color, sentiment and emotion, ambition and wants, love and hurt. Each had a story that was revealed through a surprisingly little amount of effort, as though each individual was just waiting for someone to take an interest in their storybook lives.

She began to make friends. As the snowy days progressed, individuals would begin to say hello to Chelsea on the street, or bid her a smile and a wave as they passed her by. She would be asked to try a home-cooked meal by the motherly Felicia, or to help count how many seashells were on the beach by the endearingly innocent Charlie. Chelsea became especially close to the animal store owner, Julia, the very same girl from _his_ past, who had haunted him so fervently. Chelsea never told her who she was, or that she knew who _she_ was or even that she had known _him_. She feared it would taint their friendship, and so she kept one more secret to herself.

Julia, in her ignorance, in time would come to tell Chelsea everything noteworthy of mention about herself. Chelsea would visit her shop in her downtime and watch as Julia cleaned the backroom or mopped floors, talking for the sake of talking. She thought it must have made her feel better, so she always let her talk until she could no more. Chelsea learned about Julia's childhood as a farm girl, innocent and naïve about the world outside her two-hundred acre property. She listened as she talked about her late mother, Mirabelle, and how they managed to survive on the old family farm for a good amount of years. She also spoke of _him_, and how he, too, had lived with them on the farm since a very young age, and how he had been nearly a brother to her. Julia spoke about how he had left them, eventually, to pursue a career in animal business, and how at the time it had hurt Mirabelle so badly. Just the two of them had relocated to the Sunshine Islands only five years ago, after their farm had gone under, and had managed to create a successful animal store that brought in enough money to be comfortable.

It wasn't until the middle of the winter season that Chelsea heard for herself Julia's account of the accident. They had been sitting in the backroom with some newly arrived foals who needed to be bottle-fed still, and it seemed to come out of nowhere, but as soon as Julia began talking, she didn't stop for anything until she was done. They were on a trip to the city, picking up the groceries they couldn't often get on the Islands, when a drunk driver hit them head on. By some force of life, Julia was left spared while Mirabelle was rendered comatose almost instantly. She spoke about how she felt her pulse stop in her wrist in the last few moments of her life, and how some nights she still found herself sobbing without a specific reason as to why, only aware of the fact that she missed her mother more every day.

After that time, Chelsea noticed that Julia's general demeanor seemed more upbeat and hopeful, as though the telling of that portion of her story released an invisible weight from her shoulders. She then told Chelsea, with no small amount of blushing and bashfulness, of her current relationship with Elliot, the shy, well-meaning boy next door. After the death of her mother, Julia had found a solace in Elliot that made her feel a little more whole. He, like Chelsea, was fine with just listening to Julia talk when she needed to, and when she cried he would simply hold her and tell her that everything would be okay.

Conversations with Julia often prompted deeper thoughts in Chelsea, even after they ended. She often would find herself in bed on those wintery nights, full of thoughts as the walls upheld by preoccupation came down in the stillness. Only during these times, would she let herself think of _him_ without penalty. She would replay key instances and memories across her mind's eye again and again, analyzing and reanalyzing movements and words and facial expressions and wondering if any of it truly mattered. Most often, Chelsea would think about their last encounter before her leave. She often asked herself if she would change her course of action and stay with him, if she could go back and change anything about that moment. But of course, she never got a true answer.

And perhaps most far-fetched of all…she often would wonder why he didn't say those three words that she knew were on his lips in that last encounter. She wondered if everything would be different if he had said those three words.

If she, herself, had realized sooner… If she, herself, had said those three words…

The weeks of winter, at the time, seemed to drag on for a lifetime, but as they finally came to an end, the world around Chelsea seemed to burst into life. Chelsea basked in the reappearance of the sun as color returned to her world, as the greens and pinks and yellows and purples synonymous with springtime threatened to overwhelm her senses. The people seemed to awaken as well, from a hibernation spent huddled in their heated homes. The roads were spackled with the presence of individuals again, and a certain hum of business returned to the town.

Which brings everything back to where Chelsea lay now, sprawled on the lawn of her farm as her new bout of crops rose from the ground. While spring, with the return of planting, came to be busier than the winter season, Chelsea's strenuous pace from the previous fall did not make a reappearance. The winter had killed the denial and the distraction strategies that had been in place to protect herself…in essence, Chelsea hoped that the wounds of her past would heal more quickly if she left them exposed to the air.

A small part of Chelsea was aware that she still had feelings for the cowboy, and that a part of her heart would always belong to him. She could not deny that she missed him, or even that an even smaller part of her wanted to see him again. But she knew she belonged here…this is where she was meant to be. She had found her niche, at last, where she was needed and where she excelled.

And she was happy…almost.

Rolling to her feet, Chelsea brushed herself off and straightened her farm clothes. Her stomach grumbled irritably, and realizing she hadn't eaten yet today, she set off in the direction of her kitchen. Having to live on her own had forced Chelsea into learning how to cook semi-decently to avoid starvation, so without much thought she fell into the habit of making herself a stew made up of whatever surplus crops she had stored in her fridge as of recently.

A sudden noise broke her from the stupor she had entered as she cooked. Looking up with a frown, Chelsea realized that the sound came from her dog, Levitt, who was somewhere outside nearby. Dismissing it, she slowly went back to stirring the stew. Levitt barking wasn't unheard of, so she wasn't exactly concerned.

Distracted now, Chelsea found herself unable to fall back into the stupor she usually was in as she cooked, and she continued listening to Levitt's barking. The more she listened, the more she recognized the _tone_ of his barking.

Having spent a good deal of time around him, Chelsea had learned to pick out the different barks Levitt used depending on the subject of his barking. With strangers, the bark was louder, more authoritative, deeper as a way of sounding tough, she liked to think. That was normally the bark Chelsea would hear him emit when most of the townsfolk entered her property.

With familiars, Levitt's bark would change into a more light-hearted, shallow bark, a long baying sort of noise that served as a hello to the individual he recognized. This was the bark received by Julia, Elliot, Taro, and Gannon, who was on the property doing upgrades often enough for Levitt to get to know him.

But the bark Chelsea heard now…was one she _knew_ he used with only one person.

Standing stiffly, Chelsea continued to listen as Levitt continued to bark. Her heartbeat hitched, and her blood seemed to freeze in her veins, as everything about her came to a stop still.

_It couldn't be_, Chelsea thought to herself. She scolded herself for thinking it could be for even a moment, because there's no way…

Interrupting her thoughts, a harsh, crisp knock pounded against her farmhouse door. Chelsea jumped, and realized she couldn't hear Levitt barking anymore.

But she was frozen. Her muscles were carved from old stone, and she couldn't move for fearing of shattering into a million pieces. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't blink, she-

"Anyone home? Can I come in?"

A wave of nausea swept over Chelsea, and she felt herself pale by a few shades as she watched the disembodied voice she knew so well open the door to her farmhouse…

"The name's Vaughn. I'm the Islands' new animal trader as of today and you being the farmer-"

The voice paused, and for the first time the man who owned it looked upward from the ground and directly at the farmer standing stark in front of him. His words fell away into the air between them, as he lapsed into an unbelievable, astonished silence. Struggling against the tunnel vision that was threatening to take over her being, Chelsea instinctively met his eyes.

"Chelsea?"

A spoken word, her name tumbling out of his mouth in disbelief, was the last push it took for Chelsea, as she promptly fainted onto the floor in front of him.

**0o0o0o0o**


	14. Chapter 14

**0o0o0o0o**

"Damn it!"

Swearing to himself, Vaughn attempted to pick up the unconscious woman up from the floor in front of him, cursing his inability to have moved faster and caught her before her head smashed into the ground with a sound worthy of cringing. Working on autopilot, Vaughn scanned the home quickly for a surface Chelsea could be draped across where she would be least likely to roll off and hurt herself, eventually discovering the bedroom. Cradling her as though she bear no weight at all, Vaughn gently placed Chelsea onto her bed, making sure the pillows would replace the support his arms were giving her head when he held her. Within a matter of minutes, he had managed to prepare a cold compress for the impressive goose egg that was already beginning to form across the crown of her head. Laying it across her forehead, Vaughn watched for a change in her demeanor, but she remained asleep, lost amongst the vast levels of consciousness within her mind.

With nothing left to do but inevitably wait, Vaughn faltered as the adrenaline of the situation drained from his pores. With a glance at the unconscious woman, he stepped from her room for a moment, struggling against the turmoil that was arising within his body, a physical response to the emotional tornado that was ripping through his thoughts. Feeling as though his heart was going to pound through the muscles of his chest, Vaughn sat down heavily at a rickety table in her kitchen, his hands already holding his head as he struggled to understand what he had just walked in to.

_You could walk right back out right now_, something in his head spoke. _She would think it was nothing but a dream. You came here to start something new, did you not?_

He had. He had come to start something fresh. He had come to succeed. He had come to forget.

But to leave an unconscious woman by herself…would weight upon his conscious heavily, no matter if he knew her. He could question if he ever _did_ knew the sleeping girl in the next room any more than he knew the strangers on this island.

Vaughn still couldn't bring himself to go. Whether or not he would regret this later, he couldn't decide. But it would be wrong to leave _anyone_ alone in this state, he argued to himself. The fact that it was _her_ made no difference.

Or so he tried to convince himself.

Taking a long, deep breath, Vaughn shook her head once before roughly grabbing the chair he had been seated in and moving to the bedroom once more. He opened the door to see her position unchanged, and yet he was still surprised. The girl that had appeared to him in nothing but two dimensional memories, desires, or dreams lay wholesome in front of his open, aware eyes; a definite component of life's piece-by-piece puzzle, something real enough for tangible touch.

Vaughn watched her as she slept, unable to look away despite the unchanging picture in front of him. The fear that she would fade away into the particles of the air if he took his eyes off her for even a moment was absolute; he was not entirely convinced that this was not another dream, not another figment of his imagination pulling a cruel joke on him. If he looked away she would be gone, and he would be left questioning if she was ever there at all.

For all he knew, he could be looking at another woman and seeing _her_. It would not have been the first time it had happened to him in the last half-year.

His vision devoured her image readily, drinking in the details that had begun to fade from his memory in the time apart, details that any average person would fail to notice, but to him, spoke of endless stories, memories, and experiences.

Her hair had grown since he had seen her last, the caramel tendrils cascading wildly across her chest and the pillow. They seemed to have grown lighter in color, as though the sun had seen something in Chelsea something similar to itself and clung to the part of her closest to the sky. Her skin, always tending towards fairness, was not tan but harbored more freckles than he had ever remembered seeing on her heart-shaped face, illuminating her features in a permanent sun-kissed glow. The upturned nose, the small ears, the round cheeks, and the rose-petal lips…these were the things that had not changed. Her tangled eyelashes quivered under the movements of her eyes in sleep, and her mouth turned downward in a small frown for a few moments before her face relaxed again.

Adjusting the compress on her forehead, Vaughn felt himself grow slightly hot as his body brushed hers, and a wave of unasked for memories bombarded his senses. He fought to keep his eyes from scaling her body; while he _was_ a man, Vaughn liked to think he had enough self-control not to come off as a creep, especially while she was knocked out and couldn't punch him for being skeevy.

He couldn't help but to have noticed the differences when he had picked her up from the ground, however; the Chelsea he remembered was…softer. Seemingly delicate, easily breakable. The Chelsea he had lifted up felt harder, strong and able. Something in her stood straighter, a testament of the life she had chosen amongst unbroken land.

Or perhaps he had had wrong all along. Perhaps that was who she was from the beginning, and Vaughn was only just seeing her for who she was.

In the face of the incredulity with which Vaughn regarded the woman who lay in front of him, the older feelings of anger were beginning to also resurface at the sight of her, feelings he had worked for a long time after she left to bury. Feelings he had hoped would fade completely in time if he left behind the city that was now tainted for him with her memory.

**0o0o0o0o**

_Vaughn walked out of the police station that evening with a mindset proving fatal to a heart that had been softened by love. _

_In the five hours he had been detained in custody for what was thought to be serious intent to harm, Vaughn stared at the gray ceiling and relived his agony again and again on a broken record-player timescale. The waiting and the stillness would become his greatest enemy, as it was during those times that memories would run rampant with their double-edged swords, designed only to hurt now. _

_When the police had gathered enough interviews from witnesses that supported Vaughn's innocence, he was released back into the town, and although little time had passed in the grand scheme of things, Vaughn saw a changed city before him. _

_He began to walk along the street that would lead him to Chelsea's by instinct, and didn't realize his error until he stood across from the empty building. Without a word, he turned back in the direction that would lead him home. _

_If the saying is true, that home is where the heart is, than Vaughn vowed to never again allow himself to have a true home. _

_He began to make plans to move from the city. Everywhere he went, reminded him of her, the thing he was trying most to forget. He didn't know what else to do to cope with the agony other than run from it; it was all he knew. _

_By the following week, Vaughn had put his living space up for sale, packed up what little belongings meant anything to him, and boarded a ferry without even a goodbye glance at the city where his happiest moments had been. _

_The only feeling he opened himself to from that point on was the wanderlust. Vaughn never stayed anywhere for longer than a month before he was on his way again; he traveled where he could find work and anywhere else unfamiliar. Familiarity bred remembering. With no reason to stay in any place he visited, he always had a good reason to go. _

_All the while, he struggled against the desire to go home. But he didn't know what home could be any more if it couldn't be _her.

_The leaves of autumn began to decompose upon the streets as biting winter winds chapped the skins of people whose schedules don't adhere to the changing weather pattern; the cold seemed to freeze over Vaughn's burning agony into a hard, icy anger. The pain became coy, and took on a form that tricked the mind into thinking it had left. It no longer tore at Vaughn in sharp, unpredictable stabs; rather, it became usual that he felt a dull, aching emptiness somewhere deep in his gut. He much preferred this, he thought. _

_Vaughn began to frequent the women of the cities he visited with little difficulty. Alongside several men following the same work routes as himself, Vaughn learned about the right "type" of women to seek on their nights out after hours of work. The women came to him with surprisingly little difficulty; something about his taciturn, cold aloofness caught their eyes amongst the loud, boisterous crowd of a bar._

_They found his coldness attractive, as most of them fancied themselves bad boys. His good looks usually sealed the deal: one small smirk and the woman of his choosing would be accompanying Vaughn back to his hotel room of the week, leaving his friends in laughter as they shook their heads at his newfound charm. _

_It was through these women that Vaughn attempted to forget. A different face, body, voice each time, surely would allow for him to forget the face, the body, the voice that he still yearned for somewhere deep behind the ice that had enclosed any feeling. At the beginning of each night, it worked for a while; Vaughn lost himself in the strange woman who knew nothing about him or his past, whom he also knew nothing about. There was nothing familiar about them that should trigger thoughts of _her; _he purposefully avoided women with hair that looked too much like hers, or eyes that reminded him of the ocean in summer. _

_And yet every time, his subconscious would deliberately disobey him in the heat of the moment; he would look at the woman and see _her _instead, flushed and beautiful and with him. He had to bite his tongue each time, for fear it would be her name that he would call out by accident. _

_At one point Vaughn ceased any eye contact with the women all together. It was too dangerous, he discovered; women had the uncanny ability to see the truth in his eyes if he made the mistake at looking at them too long. _

_It was one of the few women he remembered to that day who forced him to stop with the eye-contact. Eve, if he recalled right, simply stared at him after they had finished and he was cleaning up. _

_"__What," he had grunted after a few moments, uncomfortable with her unusual, ruby gaze. _

_She smirked knowingly at him as she gathered her things, flipping her tangled blonde hair across her shoulder. "Us girls notice it, you know." _

_"…"_

_She rolled her eyes. "I've been with enough men to know when they're thinking about another woman in the sack. They get a faraway look in their eyes, like they aren't even there anymore and aren't really seeing you. It's funny; it's most noticeable with quiet guys like you." _

_Vaughn sat stiffly in silence as she gathered the rest of her things, a silent denial of her words, although somewhere deep down he was cracking apart at her insight. _

_"__My advice to you would be to go after her if things aren't too far gone. It's that or stop with the eye contact, kid. You have to know it doesn't work this way…other women aren't going to make you forget."_

_Eve's countenance softened as she looked up from her things to see Vaughn's head in his hands. She sighed, and with the kindest gesture since _she _had gone, ruffled his silver hair. _

_"__Good luck with everything, kid. Hope you find her again." _

_Even when the door closed after her, Vaughn remained in the same position for a long time afterwards. After that he never made eye contact with another woman again. The other option was inconceivable. _

_Vaughn carried on with this behavior through the winter, if only to obtain soft, warm bodies to brave the cold, lonely nights with. But as the earth began to de-thaw, Vaughn grew bored of the women he would take home. A majority of them he found to be more than acceptably attractive; and yet, he failed to recognize any true substance in their character. Vaughn struggled to look semi-attentive as the women who seduced his coworkers failed to strike a chord with him; he grew bored with their intentionally slow, affected speech, their bar stories and complaints about petty, vain things. He often found himself wanting a woman to surprise and challenge him the way _she_ had, but upon realizing this he would quickly shut down the thought. Most of the women wanted to "change" him. They all thought they could be the one for which Vaughn would put it all out on the line for, be different for, open up for. _

_But none of them ever were. There was only one who ever could, and she had gone. _

_Come spring, Vaughn had decided to begin seriously searching for a steady job somewhere, a place he wouldn't mind living in permanence. Since the end of autumn he had put out resumes and applications, but hadn't taken it too seriously, only hearing of a few possibilities. His birthday was approaching, in the form of a reminder of him getting older. While he knew he was still young, he felt older and more tired than he should. _

_Through fellow coworkers, Vaughn fell into correspondence with animal traders around the country and began his search for open positions and hirings. Much to his luck, he received a call from a team of workers from a place called the Sunshine Islands who were looking to relocate to a different farming region. _

_"__We're looking to head out by Spring 16__th__, so if you're interested it would be great if you'd be able to arrive on the island by then," they said. _

_"__No problem," Vaughn replied. Not a bad birthday present._

_"__It's a pretty nice little island in all due respect. Great scenery, nice people, impressive farm up north. Small population though, that's why we're deciding to relocate. We're moving on to bigger and better pastures!" _

_The smaller the better, Vaughn thought to himself. Easier for me to start over that way. Less people to bother me. _

_"__If you do take the position, good luck dealing with that damn farmer. Thinks she's so great because she can tame a young horse…Always giving us dirty looks and such. But don't let that deter you from the Sunshine Islands, they really are great! Plus there's a real hot chick running the animal produce shop, whooowee!"_

_Vaughn made a disgusted noise to himself but stoically agreed with the traders before thanking them and hanging up. He knew the woman they were talking about was his cousin Julia, who was another reason he was interested in landing that job in particular. Despite his habits with the city women, Vaughn reluctantly had to admit to himself that he was lonely in his current lifestyle. Although he would never, ever let anyone know otherwise. He had called Julia once since the job opening had become a serious possibility. _

_"__Oh, Vaughn, you should take it!" she had squealed after he had barely gotten a sentence out. "If you're as good with animals as you always have been, I think this job would be perfect for you. Plus with Momma gone…I could really use some more help around here. Elliot's great and all but I would love to have an experienced partner again. The people are so sweet around here, Vaughn; I know you'll love them. And I know you love the ocean, and there's a great beach, and-"_

_"__Yeah, yeah, Julia, I know. Heard it from the traders already-"_

_"__Does that mean you're taking the job?!"_

_"…__Most likely, yes-"_

_"__YAY! Oh Vaughn, I'm so happy! I'm going to start preparing you a room right away, I'll even start seeing if I can buy some milk from Chelsea for porridge, and-!"_

_Vaughn's stomach dropped at the sound of the name he hadn't heard spoken out loud in nearly half a year. _

_"__Julia-"_

_"__-and I'm sure you'll have a great time with all the animals we have in stock here, and there's a great restaurant and diner, ooh, and the forest is so great for walks!-"_

_"__Julia-"_

_"__-What kind of porridge do you prefer Vaughn, plain or with honey or fruit? I feel like an idiot for not remembering but it's been so long. What size bed would you prefer-"_

_"__JULIA."_

_"__-No, nevermind, I'll just ask the woman at the furniture store in the city what size would be best for a tall guy. Sorry Vaughn, I have to go, I think Elliot just dropped a bunch of boxes of animal feed, I have to go help him, call you later, bye!"_

_"__JULIA-"_

_Vaughn slammed the phone down in anger, visibly fuming at his cousin's distractibility. His stomach was still stirring from her comment…it couldn't be, couldn't be _her_. There's no possible way. Chelsea was a common enough name, and he had heard of female farmers recently. There was no way it was her. _

_Vaughn scoffed at himself as he realized his immediate reaction, and brushed off the possibility. _

_He was disturbed that a part of himself was still so attached to the mere thought of her…this is why he needed that job on the Sunshine Islands. He needed a place where he could focus in on his work without distractions, where he could meet new people and finally, finally move on. _

_With a slightly heavier heart than before, Vaughn waited out the days until he could leave for his new destination. He yearned for the day where the heaviness would be gone, where his yearning for _her_ would be nothing but another memory to forget. _

**0o0o0o0o**

Vaughn was wrenched from his own internal reflections as a hoarse groan sounded from the bed across from him. With a slight startle, Vaughn's eyes jumped to Chelsea immediately. Upon realizing his actions, he scowled slightly and crossed his arms.

_Get a hold of yourself. _

Despite his reminiscence, the moment Vaughn lapsed back into the present and saw the woman in front of him, his anger and bitterness was forced to take a back seat. She had always had that effect on him. As he looked at her, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling something come apart within his chest. Something felt lighter, warmer, and more whole when she was simply within his proximity.

He had failed. He did not forget her. His nomadic experiences had simply caused his heart to grow fonder of her in her absence, unconditionally and in spite of the pain she had caused him.

If this is what it meant to love someone, Vaughn didn't know if he liked it. But from what he had come to terms with from his experiences was that it didn't matter if he liked it or not, because there was no stopping it.

Vaughn loved her with all his heart.

Chelsea seemed to be slowly regaining her awareness; as she rose from the depths of unconscious thought, she arched her back in a quiet yawn, before sharply recoiling in pain as the movement pained her injury. Reaching a tentative hand up towards it, Chelsea patted it softly as though she were petting a newborn bunny, and winced again. A throaty chuckle slipped out of Vaughn at her curious antics before he could restore his shell.

Jumping a little, as though she had forgotten the circumstances under which her injury had been conceived, Chelsea stared wide-eyed at Vaughn as her face grew scarlet in color.

Vaughn stared back, outwardly stone-faced and straining against conflicting emotions that fought to expose themselves on his face. On the inside, he was in a form of heaven. He had missed those eyes more than he had allowed himself to admit, even to himself, and to look into them allowed him a guilty pleasure that seemed to remove exhaustion from his hunched shoulders.

They stared at each other, wordless, for a long time, neither knowing quite what to say after everything that had transgressed between them.

The wordless moment between Vaughn and Chelsea, seemingly suspended in time, spoke volumes more about their experiences together than any combination of written words, sentences, or paragraphs could begin to.

After what seemed like years, Chelsea finally spoke, unexpected tears threatening to spill over the brims of her eyes.

"Happy Birthday, Vaughn."

Vaughn did not respond for a long time. When he did, it was with a small smile, one so rare that when she saw it, Chelsea laughed, not out of humor, but rather out of wonder and hope.

"Thank you, Chelsea."

And so, it began.

**0o0o0o0o**


	15. Chapter 15

**0o0o0o0o**

Every day, at around five o'clock, a girl wearing a loose, yellow shirt and a red bandana ran down the main streets weaving throughout Verdure Island that led to the town's animal shop. Her long, sun-kissed hair whipped around her face whether or not it was windy, now, and the spring's soaring abundance of cherry blossoms had a tendency to tangle themselves in the hair not restrained by her bandana. She carried no umbrella on rainy days, and embraced the pouring rain as she twirled and skipped across town, without a care of who may be watching. No matter what she was doing, she was always there, going somewhere that most everybody seemed to know of.

Every day, Vaughn watched her run by from inside the animal shop, losing interest in his evening coffee as he hurriedly tugged on his work boots. He would pretend to read the newspaper, turn off the low quality radio in the sizable kitchen, and never, ever wait until her familiar figure came into sight. She was his constant, after all this time, and her name was capable of invoking something in his being that grew stronger every day.

Vaughn would race out the door with outstretched arms, waiting to catch a squealing Chelsea in his arms as she hugged and smothered him in sloppy kisses and breathless giggles.

"Hello," he rumbled, his eyes settling on her own. Some things about a person never change, and Vaughn was a taciturn man, through and through. His greeting was quiet and private, not one to encourage the soft smiles and chuckles of their nearby town neighbors at public displays of affection, but he relayed to her everything she needed to know with the gaze that settled between them.

"Hello yourself," Chelsea said, tipping her head so that their foreheads touched and noses brushed together. "How's business been today? Did that man from Flowerbud City who was interested in the foal stop by?"

"He did, and with the forms necessary for purchase. As soon as she's of age to be weaned, he will be back with a trailer to pick her up."

"Fantastic! And you, always the cynic, thought it wouldn't work out. Perhaps it's a good thing you have someone like me around, you need to have _some_ source of optimism in your life," Chelsea chided, beaming her flashy smile at Vaughn as he narrowed his eyes at her obvious goading.

As the pair reentered the animal shop, updating each other on the happenings of their day, a small shriek erupted from the kitchen at the back of the house, followed immediately by the raucous clattering of what sounded suspiciously like Tupperware dishes and bowls falling to the hardwood floor.

"Oh, who put these bowls back like that anyway?! Really, this is what comes of sharing a kitchen with a male, I ought to ban him from even touching any cooking supplies-"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Vaughn drawled, peering with a skeptical eye down at his cousin sitting amongst a suspected mound of cooking containers with a look of vexation spread across her normally sweet features. "I don't think you'd be too happy starving to death."

"Oh, you be quiet, Vaughn! I'm surrounded by potential tools of harm and I'm not afraid to use them on you even if we are related!"

Vaughn chuckled at Julia's harmless threats at the same time Chelsea punched him in the arm for his subtle insult to Julia's cooking skills before skipping into the room to help Julia, who had just noticed her.

"Chelsea! You're here!" Julia chirped, her features smoothing out in delight as she offered the kind help of her best friend.

"I'm always here at five, silly," Chelsea gently reminded Julia, before bending down to assist in gathering up the sprawled containers. "Don't mind Vaughn, you're…well, you're…you've made some nice meals lately, Julia! Vaughn's just feeling high on his horse, no pun intended, because of a deal he just made with a client."

Luckily, Julia didn't seem to notice Chelsea floundering over her questionable cooking skills, as she squealed again over the announcement of Vaughn's most recent sale. "That man bought the foal?! And here I was, thinking he was totally gonna flake out on the deal!"

"Me too," Chelsea admitted, rubbing the back of her neck in a nervous, unconscious habit as she stood up from putting the dishes back in the cupboards. Vaughn watched her contentedly from his previous post on the bar stool to the side of their kitchen island, his coffee long gone cold in its abandonment. "But I'm really glad he did. That customer is a big name back in Flowerbud City, being both a well-known crop farmer and a very successful horse racer. Chen told me he's extraordinarily selective in the foals he chooses to buy."

"So what you're saying," Vaughn drawled, the smallest of smiles creeping onto his angular face, "is that we must be considered pretty highly by both the farming and animal business community."

"Precisely," Chelsea grinned, hooking an arm around Vaughn's waist. His arm automatically snaked around her own waist, pulling her close in a motion that at one point in his life was considered completely alien and out of the question.

Starry-eyed, Julia squealed again, spinning around happily as she picked up on what this deal meant for both the farmer and her and Vaughn's animal business. As soon as Vaughn had settled into the lifestyle of the Sunshine Islands and had begun to rebuild his relationship with Chelsea, it was actually Julia's idea that the farmer, animal shop owner and animal tradesman should collaborate to create an elaborate business together. Chelsea began to raise animals both for her own profit as well as for use by the animal shop's business; when of age, her livestock was bought by Julia to be sold to ranches both near and far. Julia continued to make additional money by selling animal tools and feed products. Vaughn was responsible for directly creating deals with farmers interested in buying livestock from the business, as well as transporting the animals to the various towns in which their customers were located. It was a career that Vaughn had grown to love more than any he had previously had, as it allowed for him to travel enough to fulfill his love for traveling whilst still providing him with a permanent home. Vaughn also was responsible for tracking down livestock from nearby business associates when Chelsea was looking to expand her brood of animals.

The collaboration had ended up becoming highly successful, something that all of them had hoped for but none had truly anticipated. Their business had made the Sunshine Islands into a name even more widely known by the general public, and it was not uncommon for them to receive orders from farms from continents far away, in towns none of them had ever heard of. In these cases, Vaughn often would disappear for days at a time, as his remarkable skill in working with livestock was an invaluable one not seen very often.

While Vaughn did enjoy the traveling aspect of his job, his enjoyment could no longer be described as wanderlust. He no longer traveled in pursuit of unfamiliarity, for he no longer feared familiarity in and of itself. He no longer feared remembering, the relative of familiarity, as his fondest memories were of the girl he had found once more. With so much reason to stay on the Sunshine Islands, he always had a good reason to find his way back home.

Home. He no longer struggled with the desire to go home, because she was home. She always had been.

"-even listening to me? I swear, I've never met such a brooding person as you, Vaughn, for goodness' sake-"

Realizing he had gotten lost in his own thoughts, Vaughn came back to reality as Julia impatiently snapped her fingers in front of his face. Glaring at her, he didn't respond.

"I'm going to take that as a no. Chelsea and I decided that selling that foal is cause for celebration. We're going to go out to dinner at the Diner. You're coming, of course, right? I just need to go see if Elliot isn't busy, I'm sure he can but I don't want to be _tha_t girl- "

Vaughn rolled his eyes at his cousin's scatterbrained tendencies, hiding his amusement poorly. "Yeah, Jules, sounds good. I'll pay."

"Well, if you insist!" Julia sang, blowing Chelsea and Vaughn faux kisses as she danced out of the room, obviously in search of her adoring boyfriend. "We'll meet you there!"

Chelsea giggled softly at Julia's antics, but her adoring smile made clear her fondness for the young blonde. Turning her attention once more to Vaughn, Chelsea walked over to the man until only inches stood between their bodies. It was uncommon, in recent days, for them to have time with only each other, as their business successful and busy schedules often demanded much of their time and energy. Much of the time not devoted to their work went to cultivating friendships with the townspeople, although this was more typical of Chelsea than Vaughn. Vaughn, naturally quieter and less outgoing, spent most of his time with Chelsea, Julia, the fisherman Denny, and even Elliot, as of lately. While the latter and him were even more different than Chelsea and Julia, Vaughn found Elliot to be of surprisingly decent company. He was quiet and unassuming, and didn't try to force unnecessary, filler conversation with Vaughn. However, he had discovered that Elliot had picked up more knowledge on farming from his grandfather Taro than most people expected, and thus could hold a conversation with Vaughn easily.

Chelsea, on the other hand, was a social butterfly through and through. Although she had acquired friends back in the city, it was as though living on the Islands had flipped a switch in her. The Islands allowed for her to bloom into a person free of restraint and insecurity, someone who had found where she belonged and filled the void of emptiness that had been increasingly constraining during her time at the city.

Looking at her now, Vaughn felt humbled by his own sheer luckiness.

Chelsea brought a hand up to Vaughn's face and brushed an unruly lock of silver hair back under the ridge of his cowboy hat. He could feel the calluses on her hand from the simple touch, and was reminded again of how hard she had been working lately.

"I feel like I've hardly seen you at all lately," Chelsea murmured, her cornflower blue eyes glimmering as they met his lavender ones. "We've both been so busy."

"I know," Vaughn agreed quietly, without a word opening his arms for her. Not needing any encouragement, Chelsea tucked herself around his body, a space seemingly molded just for her. "But now that this big deal has been solidified, things should slow down slightly."

Vaughn could feel her smile against his chest. "I think you've been here long enough to know that things never truly slow down. But I wouldn't have it any other way."

Remaining quiet, Vaughn held her against him as he pondered her first statement more deeply. Reviewing his internal calendar, he came to a realization.

"It's been nearly a year, hasn't it?"

Chelsea, too, was quiet as well, before she looked up at Vaughn with a sleepy smile. "I suppose it has. How things can change in a year, right?"

Vaughn didn't reply, and after a few more moments of comfortable silence, Chelsea broke their embrace. "I suppose we should be heading down to the Diner pretty soon. Are you ready to go?"

Feeling introspective after his realization, Vaughn hesitated before answering. "Yeah, I just have to go find some paperwork I meant to give to Julia earlier. Go on without me, I'll be up at the Diner soon."

Chelsea seemed to pick up on his thoughtfulness, but knowing the man as well as she did, simply smiled at him. "Okay, but don't be too late. I have to go make sure Julia and Elliot didn't get…er, distracted anyways. See you in a few?"

"Wouldn't dare disappoint you," Vaughn drawled, winking at her charmingly as she moved to leave the room. "See you soon."

As Chelsea's silhouette faded from his view, Vaughn turned to retrieve the paperwork from his office. While it was true that he had forgotten to give it to Julia earlier, he knew exactly where it was and was aware that it would take far less time than he insinuated to get it.

In reality, Vaughn found himself needing the window of time alone to reflect on the past year he had spent on the Sunshine Islands. In the hectic lifestyle that he had been thrown into, it had hardly seemed like a year, already, had gone by. But now that Chelsea had mentioned so, Vaughn realized his birthday was this upcoming week. He already knew it would be worlds different from his last birthday…

Their reunion had been one of mixed emotions, and Vaughn was still able to recall nearly a year later the emotional exhaustion that he had suffered by its end. Chelsea had uncharacteristically burst into tears almost immediately after acknowledging his birthday, and it was a sight Vaughn vowed to never see again in any relation to himself unless they were rooted in happiness. As her tears flowed the tension of the unresolved anger, hurt, sadness, and betrayal that existed between them seemed to evaporate, if only temporarily. It was as simple as her needing him, and him needing her back. He remembered her holding out for him and him obliging to her as she cried out the emotions that she had held onto for her an entire year.

For a long time after her sobs had ceased, they simply laid in silence, reveling in the physical closeness of one another but unsure of how to proceed. So much time had gone by since the last incident that had torn them apart, and many of the incidents before that unaddressed. It was Chelsea, always the brave one, who first decided to speak.

As soon as the first words left her mouth, it was as if a floodgate had burst. From the incident following Vaughn's reaction to Mirabelle's death, to Chelsea's decision to leave the city, to their parting farewell on the dock…for the first time in their relationship, they lay everything on the table. Everything was raw, everything was honest, and everything _hurt_. He could remembering them screaming at each other, harder than they ever had back at the city. He remembered Chelsea crying throughout the entire experience, breaking down as she was forced to relive the moments that had led to their separation. He recalled his own reactions, seeing himself from a detached perspective as he sat in silence, trying to control his own emotions as the girl he loved cried over her own hurt and guilt.

But they also laughed. He remembered the upward emotional swing of that day, when the worst of their experiences had been relived and they had moved on to the recall of their best moments together. He remembered how his heart had skipped several beats seeing that smile again, as she shakily laughed about their park adventures until she couldn't suddenly couldn't stop laughing and was crying again, but from the laughter brought on by _him_.

That was the first time since her departure that it had felt natural and effortless to smile again, a motion he had never mastered in faking. He was better with her than he was alone; never had another person's mere presence had that effect on him.

After that, things would begin to feel good again, and the hurt would slowly begin to diminish. It would never truly be gone; he learned this through their bad days, in which the emotions from that first day of reunion would resurface. But as they relearned how to be together, those times grew to be less and less in number.

Leaving the paperwork on Julia's desk in her bedroom, Vaughn grabbed his coat and left the shop for the Diner, where he was sure Julia, Elliot, and Chelsea were already waiting for him. Knowing the girls to have keen tendencies for impatience, Vaughn began the brisk walk there, noting the light rain shower that had begun.

**0o0o0o0o**

Chelsea's attention flew to the door of the Diner as Vaughn entered the establishment, and she watched as his striking gaze found her own and he gave her a small smile. Chelsea felt her cheeks grow warmer and she fought back the girlish giggle that threatened to escape her, somewhat embarrassed that she was a grown woman who still succumbed to these kinds of things. As Vaughn sat down in the seat saved beside her, she ignored the butterflies that soared throughout her entire body, refusing to be contained to just her stomach.

As strange as it was, he was the only man she had ever known to give her such intense feelings. As long as it had been.

"I already ordered for you," Chelsea told him, smirking when his face suddenly shifted into an expression of distrust. "That's what happens when you're late, don't give me that look!"

"I wasn't that late," Vaughn grumbled, narrowing his eyes at the group before him. Chelsea stared smugly back at him, while Julia had a seemingly innocent look on her face that Vaughn had learned over the years to mean precisely the opposite. Elliot simply looked a bit frightened.

"Even so, your carrot strew should be here soon. I asked for extra carrots. And carrot cake for dessert."

Unable to hide the visible grimace, Vaughn rolled his eyes at Chelsea's jab at his irrational pickiness. "Amusing. Truly. What did you actually order me?"

Chelsea sighed at Vaughn's disinterest in playing along, before smiling at him again with a wink. "What else? Porridge, of course. With milk. And I was thinking that maybe after everyone was done we could order one of those big chocolate cakes you love."

Although Chelsea knew Vaughn was aware that she remembered the small quirks about him that made him unique, every time she seemed to remember something like his favorite meal, Vaughn would send a secret smile her way that always seemed to have devastating effects on her heart and body. It was as though he was pleasantly surprised that somebody cared enough to know these things about him, and was unconsciously rewarding her with a smile that not just anyone had seen.

Wishing she could fan herself without seeming strange, Chelsea tried to quell her racing heart by distracting herself with her surroundings. Across from her, Julia and Elliot were in their own little world, drinking in each other's gazes as though it was the last time they would ever see each other. Occasionally, she would catch them whispering sweet nothings to each other, and jokingly pretended to gag at Vaughn. Vaughn chuckled, affirming his agreement.

In the summer after Vaughn had arrived on the Sunshine Islands, Elliot exhibited an uncharacteristic display of boldness in proposing marriage to Julia. Sans Vaughn, the entire town was shocked by the announcement; everyone had assumed that it would have to be Julia who would do the proposing if they were ever to take the next step in their relationship. However, a few days before it happened, Vaughn too was surprised as Elliot came into the back storage area of the animal shop to ask for Vaughn's permission for Julia's hand, him being the only living relative of Julia left. While he was initially skeptical of Elliot's motives in courting his cousin, Vaughn grudgingly began to accept that him giving permission to Elliot was the right choice as he began to pay more attention to their relationship. While he detested having to witness their lovey-dovey antics while being forced into the same room as them for work, Vaughn could hardly deny that the boy was head over heels for Julia. And for whatever reason, one Vaughn couldn't even begin to fathom, she liked him too. While Chelsea had heard the news initially from Julia within minutes of it happening, she found Vaughn's version of things far more amusing. But she would never tell _Julia_ that. They were due to be officially married in the upcoming summer season.

As the waiter came by with their food and the group dug in to their dishes, Chelsea found herself pensive as she listened to the rain storm outdoors while she ate. It had been raining the first time they had kissed again, after the separation. She recalled the summer day fondly, as she did with most new memories of Vaughn nowadays…

_She had been working hard all day in the fields, harvesting her summer crops and constructing protective barriers for those still maturing to hopefully harbor the incoming heat storm. Taro had hobbled over to her farm early that morning with a warning that a summer storm was on its way, and thus Chelsea had scrambled to prepare for its wrath the remainder of the day. As she harvested the last of her pineapples, she stood up and nearly walked right into the brooding cowboy himself, letting out a small squeak of surprise._

"_Aah! Vaughn, I swear you are the stealthiest person I have ever met. Maybe you ought to go into the secret agent profession rather than this whole animal business gig." _

_The tell-tale throaty chuckle. Chelsea didn't even have to look up to know that he was smirking down at her. _

"_My apologies. I came by to see if a lady might need some extra help carrying her baskets full of crops." _

_Chelsea pondered his suggestion for a second, about to retaliate with a response about how she was more than capable of handling things by herself, before she bit her tongue. She knew that this was his way of attempting to be courteous and kind, and trying to improve their relationship. She knew it probably took some pride for him to come up here…_

_Chelsea sighed, peering over at the many baskets of produce she still needed to bring to her produce storage shed. "O-Okay. But not because I need you to help me…because you seem to want to." _

_Vaughn chuckled again. "Of course." _

_The two set off bringing the produce baskets to the storage shed, and Chelsea was secretly glad that she had accepted his offer. Not only was the chore going by significantly faster, but Chelsea got to sneak subtle glances at Vaughn's chiseled physique, a rarity even in the summer. He had ditched his usual cowboy vest and hat and was wearing a simple tank top, which showed off his arms rather well. Chelsea blushed, chiding herself for acting like such a teenager; of course he had nice arms, his job consisted of a fair bit of heavy lifting and other active duties. _

_As the two walked to get the last remaining baskets, Chelsea suddenly felt raindrops on her face. She paused, wide-eyed, as a rumbling wave of thunder assaulted her hearing. Almost instantaneously, as though the thunder was the summoning signal, an enormous downpour of rain began dumping on both her and Vaughn. _

_Chelsea was instantly hit by a wave of hysterical giggles, and she cried out in amusement as rain pelted her and Vaughn hard. Taro had told her that the storm would not hit until early the next morning, and for some reason, him being wrong struck her as something that was hysterically funny. _

_Highly amused, Chelsea squealed as she grabbed the last bucket of produce and began to sprint towards the produce bin. _

"_Run, Vaughn, run! Your precious hair is going to get wet!" _

_Cursing darkly to himself, Vaughn ran after Chelsea with his own basket, evidently not seeming to enjoy the sudden downpour as much as the girl in front of him. By the time he had gotten the produce safely indoors, he exited the storage shed to find Chelsea openly standing in the downpour, laughing and throwing her arms out all around her. _

"_You've evidently lost it," Vaughn shouted to her, as the thunder was now near constant and the wind picking up. "Get inside already!" _

_Chelsea spun around laughing, her drenched hair sending droplets every which way as she caught her breath from the activity. Noticing Vaughn, she grabbed his hands. _

"_Vaughn, this rain is so wonderful!" _

_Irritably, Vaughn growled at her unusually childish antics, trying to pick her up and bring her indoors. _

"_No! Put me down now." _

_Although he hesitated, Vaughn decided that this was not a battle he wanted to pick right now, and placed the petite woman back down. She grabbed him by the hand as she ran over to her crop field, marveling in the view of the pouring rain on her thirsty crops. _

"_What a beautiful sight, rain is," Chelsea sighed, breathless over her own excitement. "I water my plants twice a day and they've still been dry. To a farmer like me…rain is one of the most beautiful things you can see in the summer." _

_Vaughn said nothing, and for the first time since the downpour started he lay his gaze on Chelsea's face. She was emitting radiance, her skin glowing alive in a way that shocked him. Her eyes were wide and the brightest he had ever seen them, her cheeks rosy with blood. It dawned on Vaughn how much living in the city had taken its toll on Chelsea, and how much he hadn't noticed until he had seen her in her natural element. _

_This was truly her niche, and she seemed so, so alive. _

_Vaughn was not a man of many words. Without much thought of how she would react, Vaughn cupped her face with a hand and turned her face towards him. Surprised, but not unpleasantly so, Chelsea's gaze shot up to his own. _

"_I…I am glad that you no longer use umbrellas in the rain." _

"_What?-" _

_Chelsea's confused response was cut off as a pair of lips gently met her own. Without thinking about it, Chelsea's hands rose to bring Vaughn's face closer to her own as their lips remained connected. His hand on her face moved to the back of her neck in response. _

_After a few moments, they broke apart. Both stared at each other wide-eyed, uncharacteristic for Vaughn, with hearts that raced in rhythm. Something had changed, just then, something indescribable yet incredible. They had bridged another step stone in whatever their new relationship could be defined as. _

"_It suits you…the rain, I mean." _

_Chelsea simply smiled at him. _

A hand on her knee brought Chelsea back to reality, and she jerked slightly at the unexpected touch.

"Are you alright?" Vaughn questioned, looking characteristically stoic to anyone who didn't particularly know him or pay him much attention. However, Chelsea could see the slight furrowing of his eyebrows and the lines that appeared around his mouth that were only there when he worried.

"Of course," Chelsea said, placing a hand on top of his. "I am wonderful, actually."

As the four finished the chocolate dessert they had ordered, much to Vaughn's secret delight, the group prepared to leave the Diner for their respective homes.

"It's really pouring out there," Elliot commented glumly. "We're going to get soaked out there."

"I guess we'll just have to make a run for it then!" Julia said cheerfully, grabbing onto Elliot's hand excitedly at the prospect of a challenge. "First one back home has to be the one to tell Natalie we ordered that cake without her there."

Elliot visibly paled at the notion of breaking said news to his sister. "A-Alright…Hey, wait! Julia, t-that was unfair!"

Chelsea and Vaughn laughed to themselves as the devious child streak in Julia presented itself as she took off early for their homes, poor Elliot trailing behind hopelessly. Looking up at each other, the two shared a knowing smile.

"Come on, let's go back to my cottage before it gets any worse," Chelsea said, grabbing Vaughn's hand. Without replying, Vaughn nodded before they took off for Chelsea's farm property, Chelsea laughing as Vaughn struggled in the mud along the pathways.

**0o0o0o0o**

Vaughn sat motionless on the couch in front of Chelsea's small fireplace as he waited for her to get out of the shower, a cup of hot milk grasped in his large hands. She had offered him a shower of his own, and was even prepared with an additional change of men's clothing should he decide to take her up on her offer, but he declined.

The more he thought about the fact that Chelsea had a change of men's clothing in her cottage, the more the strange feeling of jealousy kept creeping up on him. Jealousy was a foreign feeling to Vaughn, as he had little experience caring enough about other people or things for anything to warrant jealousy. However, the idea of Chelsea having the change of clothing there at all for another man, having unlikely that notion was, had him in a pensive mood.

As open as Chelsea tended to be with her affections for Vaughn, obviously having no qualms about jumping into his arms in public, Vaughn found himself suddenly wondering if he was not the only one. The idea gave him a short spike of anger, which he tried to dismiss with some success, knowing that Chelsea hated when he was angry now.

Since their reunion, neither him nor her had defined what their relationship was officially…they had wanted to take it day by day, which soon turned into month by month, and now they were at nearly a year. On some level, Vaughn was aware that Chelsea…was all that he wanted. Ever. That no other girl on the Islands interested him, and that he would be upset if she was with another.

Vaughn knew…that he still loved her. That had never changed, and he did not believe it ever truly will. He had been meaning to tell her this for a long time, as he had been aware of this development for even longer. It was those three words that he had such difficulty with, and yet he knew that if any person deserved them from him, it was Chelsea.

He had chickened out that first time in saying it, and almost lost her. As he watched her exit the bathroom in her baggy sleeping t-shirt and old cotton shorts, he knew that he had been given this second chance for a reason.

Chelsea smiled at him sweetly as she noticed Vaughn staring at her.

"Hello to you too, sweetness," she said, curling up at his side on the couch as she held her hands out to the warmth of the fire. "Is the milk okay? It's actually golden milk, I just milked it from Betty yesterday."

"It's…very good," Vaughn murmured, looking down at his cup before back up again at her face. "I would not have expected anything less from you."

Chelsea smiled again, that smile that made his heart simultaneously ache and soar. Vaughn couldn't stop himself from taking her small frame into his arms, seating her snugly on his lap so that she was closer to him.

Far from complaining, Chelsea sighed happily before looking up adoringly at Vaughn, with a hint of concern in her eyes. "This is wonderful, and I'm not complaining whatsoever, but…"

She put a hand alongside his jawline. "Is everything okay? This…this isn't really like you."

Vaughn looked at her for a few moments, feeling uncharacteristically anxious. Vaughn was very much calm, cool and collected…for the most part. But Chelsea made him feel things he didn't know he had the capacity to feel.

"What are we?"

"What do you mean?"

"I…You don't…you don't _see_ other men, do you?"

Sharply, Chelsea drew back from Vaughn, looking slightly angry. "What? No. What made you even think of that?"

Vaughn instantly felt like a jerk but tried to come off as nonchalant. "The extra set of male clothes."

"Oh, I see. They came with the house, apparently had never been worn."

Chelsea paused. "Is that the only thing that is bothering you?"

Vaughn looked away from her, suddenly unable to meet eyes with her and see such unbridled concern and honesty. Seeming to sense that, Chelsea did exactly the opposite and forced Vaughn to look at her. "Did the thought of me seeing other men bother you?"

Vaughn closed his eyes, then, and was quiet for a good while. Having learned from past experiences, Chelsea did not press him for an answer. Eventually, he opened his eyes and turned her so that they were facing each other again.

"_Yes._ Yes, it did bother me," Vaughn said in a gruff tone barely above a whisper. Chelsea could tell that he was struggling with something difficult within him, but decided not to call attention to it.

Taking his face in her hands again, Chelsea made sure that he was looking her dead in the eye before taking a deep breath and speaking.

"I know that…what we have now, is not usual. I know that we have not properly defined anything since the…reunion. But please understand this, Vaughn. Despite everything that has happened in the past…you are the only person that I want, and I want to be with only you."

At her words, something flowed through Vaughn's body that it seemed as though he had been waiting his entire life for. Unable to express to Chelsea the effect her words had on him, Vaughn grasped her with urgency unfamiliar to him as her lips crashed into his into a union long overdue.

Emotions high, Vaughn felt his body grow warm as Chelsea grasped him back tightly, letting him know that she seemed to understand, somehow, that this was his way of telling her that he felt the same way.

But Vaughn knew that he had to tell her with words. If he didn't, it would continue to haunt him for the rest of his life, and he refused to lose her again. He refused to give her up. Not this time, not again, not ever, if he had it his way.

Breaking apart, they breathed together for a few moments as Chelsea rested her forehead against Vaughn's, staring at him with the kind of eyes that would melt any man. Vaughn couldn't deny that she looked irresistible; her cheeks were flushed, lips red and swollen from kissing and her blue eyes half-lidded, looking up at him in a way that he was pretty sure could convince him to do anything.

"Chelsea," Vaughn breathed, his arms holding her closer than ever. "I have been meaning to say this for a long time to you. Don't interrupt me or I'll lose my nerve and I'll have no choice but to blame you for everything."

The last statement was said in a growl, and Chelsea laughed, evidently unafraid of Vaughn's empty threats.

A deep breath. Chelsea squeezed Vaughn's hands, which she had taken into her own by now, sensing that this was an exceedingly difficult process for him.

"Finding you on these Islands…has been the greatest evidence of fate I've ever come across. And you know I am not a believer in such things. After you…left, I came here to get over you and start anew. Evidently…I was meant to find you again. Doing so has made me happier than I have ever been in my life. Losing you the first time made me realize that…I do not want – no. I cannot lose you like that again. I want you for myself, forever. And I…you are the greatest thing that I have been given in my life, no matter if I didn't deserve it. Whatever impulse drove me to talk to you in the park after seeing you from Apartment 248, is the impulse that I owe for finding the love of my life…"

Vaughn closed his eyes, and kissed Chelsea briefly before moving his palms to hold her face.

"Because I love you, Chelsea. I love you so much."

Up until now, Vaughn had been too caught up in forcing himself to verbalize the strong feelings he had carried around and bottled up for this girl for so long, that he had failed to notice the tears streaming down her face and the choked sobs.

Immediately, Vaughn's stomach dropped and he felt sick. Tears were not what he was expecting to see, he was expecting to see that beautiful smile. Vaughn awkwardly looked away as he struggled to untangle himself from the weeping girl practically on top of him, planning on how he should make his escape when he had blown it so badly-

"I love you too, Vaughn. So very much. And I am so glad that you finally have told me."

Feeling the effects of emotional whiplash, Vaughn peered cautiously at Chelsea's teary face for a few moments before he realized the content of her words. An enormous weight lifted off of Vaughn's chest instantly, and he couldn't remember a time in his life before this moment where he had felt so light, or so warm…

Without much warning, a feeling of urgent hunger settled itself within the couple as their kisses became insatiable and their movements more frenzied and needing. With a low grunt, Vaughn grabbed Chelsea to him as he stood up, her straddling his waist with her legs as she refused to let go of him. They retired to her bedroom, blissfully unaware of anything but each other's presence and desire.

And it was throughout that night that they forgot together. It was as if the separation had never happened, and they had never left each other; as though they had always been one, and nothing could ever separate them again.

Vaughn was able to open his eyes and see her, in her entirety and realness before him, without pretending it was her. Her cheeks flushed pink, her red lips, her sparkling eyes and mane of golden brown waves. All was real, and all was _his_. No more was the fear of calling out her name by accident in the heat of moment; for it was truly _her_ whom he had finally gotten at last.

With the moon high in the sky, they fell asleep entangled in each other, with no other place they wished to be other than there, right then, with each other.

**0o0o0o0o**

Vaughn awoke gradually as the sun ascended into the sky, blinking away the beam of morning light streaming in from one of Chelsea's windows.

Being sure not to awaken the sleeping girl in the bed beside him, Vaughn quietly removed himself from the bed. Slipping on appropriate clothing, he exited the cottage and stood before the field of crops. The rainfall had turned it into a sight worthy of a king; bright, green plants shone tall and straight across the dark soil, with fresh produce already waiting to be picked.

As he watched the sun continue to rise over the fields, a familiar body hugged Vaughn from behind, kissing him on the cheek as she put an arm around his waist. He followed cue, and together the pairing observed the wonder that was a new day beginning. Day one.

Together, neither Chelsea nor Vaughn felt any remnants of being world sick.

**0o0o0o0o**


End file.
